


in any universe, i'd choose you

by allsovacant



Series: fluff & romance [20]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Alternate Universe - Gypsy/Traveller, Alternate Universe - Magic, Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Complete, Consulting Husbands (Sherlock), Cute Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Falling In Love, February Ficlet Challenge 2021, Ficlet Collection, First Kiss, Fluff, Haiku, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous John Watson, John Watson In Love, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Not Beta Read, Paranormal, Parent John Watson, Parent Sherlock, Poetry, Prompt Fic, Romance, Sherlock in Love, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 19,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29158701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant
Summary: Johnlock is in love in this Canon and Alternate Universe collection!Hello! Welcome! Here we are again! This work is a Prompt collection of johnlock ficlets, short stories, poetry, and whatnot for the month of February. I borrowed the prompts of ohlooktheresabee's from Tumblr. You can find the list of promptshere.Watch out for the Additional Tags for every chapter and trigger warnings if needed be. Tropes may vary as I go on.Work is now complete. Not Beta Read. Please do not copy to other sites.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: fluff & romance [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1142561
Comments: 159
Kudos: 70
Collections: February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee





	1. Day 1: 02/01: Prompt #1: Secret — confess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohlooktheresabee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohlooktheresabee/gifts).



> _The work title is a play of words from that famous Chaos of the Stars quotation._

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #1: Secret**
> 
> Chapter Tags: Young Adult Sherlock and Working Man John, Age Gap, Fluff, First Kiss
> 
> **Sherlock sees a love letter pinned on the bulletin board with his name on it.**

"Damn those stupid seniors."

Sherlock murmured as he shook his head disappointedly. A group of seniors just ruined his day on the lab with their noisy chatter that made him stay an hour and a half late and now after finishing his observation paper, he's had enough. He shouldered his bag as he walked out of the Chemistry building. Typing a quick message to his best friend who's probably still at work at Bart's, that he'd be late for a bit, for their movie night. He checked his Tube pass in his bag and other things that might've been left behind before hurrying down the stairs. He almost forgot looking at the bulletin board for the exam schedules that he almost tripped over his shoes. He backtracked and scanned the board when something caught his eye in the upper corner of the frame.

Sherlock blinked at the piece of paper haphazardly pinned at the top. It wouldn't take a genius, to know what the thing was. Written in bold block of letters were a love confession in the form of a poem. A love confession ... for him. And as Sherlock read the said letter he felt a myriad of emotion envelope him.

> _William Sherlock Scott Holmes,_
> 
> _Who are you to invade my thoughts?  
>  And haunt my sleepless nights?  
>  I think of nothing else but the sensual curve of your lips and the mesmerising hue of your eyes  
>  The way you look at something with such focus  
>  Alas, I want to punch those dicks that snaps at you when you just wanted to talk_
> 
> _I want to embrace you and protect you from the world  
>  I know it might sound silly but I meant every word  
>  You might be clueless and oblivious  
>  But I'd still be here to be your best friend  
>  No matter what happens after you read this letter_

Best ... friend?  
Sherlock's heartbeat doubled as he finally understood who had written the letter.

> _My colleagues at work are laughing at me for having a hard time making a move on you  
>  But I don't care, because I want this to be perfect  
>  So you won't think I was only playing with you  
>  I won't do that_
> 
> _The guy who caught my eye first when he took care of a little puppy soaked from the rain  
>  Who made a makeshift home and feed the said puppy everyday  
>  Who cried silently when the puppy vanished the next day  
>  I now felt guilty because I actually have your puppy  
>  I took care of him for you  
>  Because I know your landlord wouldn't allow you to_
> 
> _You are more than what you let people see, Sherlock  
>  And I came to love what they were too blind to see  
>  It's their loss and my gain if you'd only let me be_
> 
> _My love, if only I have your attention  
>  I'd be the proudest man in the world  
>  Only if you allow me  
>  So, please, will you go out with me? _
> 
> _P.S.  
>  Also, I named your puppy Cher_
> 
> _Secretly in Love with You,  
>  Your Not-So-Secret Admirer_

Sherlock's breath got caught in his throat when he felt a presence behind him. _John_. His best friend for three years now. His John who’s apparently secretly in love with him? What are the odds that his silly crush to the man would be returned and more?

John welcomed him as a flatmate when he moved to London at the age of nineteen from Sussex to pursue being a chemist. Who helped him settle down in the city life. Who cared for him when he got sick. John had been his strength. Most importantly, John looked after him when he was dumped by his so called dates and boyfriends, after they learned that he was actually boring. That he prefered tea from coffee. Soda from beer. Scones from biscuits. That he loved Chemistry and for some reason, Anatomy. That he loved crime shows and not sports. 

Come to think of it, John was always leaving when he had a date over. The realisation that he made John jealous warmed something inside him. John was older than him by twelve years to his twenty-two but he doesn’t really think about their ages, they just … fit. And if they will proceed to the R word, as long as it’s in between consenting adults, he doesn’t mind. Who are people to judge people?

When a soft whimper followed by a sigh came from behind him, he finally turned—albeit, slowly. 

"Cher, you got us caught. You silly girl."  
John said in a mock disappointment while ruffling the neck of their dog.

 _Their_ dog. 

He smiled as he watched John give attention to Cher. When the man finally looked up at him. He bit his lower lip while tucking a stray curl behind his ear. Sherlock watched as John set Cher down, holding the leash tight before he walked in front of him. 

"Hi," 

They both chuckled as it was said in unison.

"So," John said as he gripped the back of his neck while looking down at his feet.

It was a gesture John made when he was nervous. Sherlock hadn't thought that he could do that. Make John Watson nervous, when he himself felt tongue-tied at the moment. That this man wanted to be with him. He knew they have a lot of things to talk about. But that was what a date is for, right? Sherlock wanted to melt at the moment at the thought of dating John. But first he wanted to do something he wanted to try after reading the letter.

He stood in front of John, gripped the man’s biceps until he got his attention before leaning down for a soft peck on the lips. 

He might be doing it backwards, but he just couldn’t help but kiss the man. Oh, he’ll make John, his blushing and honourable man, complain later. Now that he knows where he stands, no way he would let this chance go.

But for now, they crossed the school grounds hand in hand, with sappy smiles in their faces and the thought of facing the world together— _together._

> THE END


	2. Day 2: 02/02: Prompt #2: Allergies — it was always you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #2: Allergies**
> 
> Additional Tags: Original Character, Canon Divergence but AU, Situations dealing with allergic reaction, anaphylaxis, John swearing, Mild Bit Not Good John, Pining!John, Jealous!John, Soft!Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Kisses—hot kisses, HEA
> 
> **SUMMARY:  
> **  
>  John was asked by Sherlock to accompany him on a date, when a life threatening situation occurred and made him realise _something._

There was something in the way that Marcus is looking at Sherlock that really irritate John. The two are seated beside each other while he is across from the other side, a fucking audience. Christ, He hadn't felt this envious in a long time. That feeling when you want to break something (preferably Marcus' face) but you do not want to be that obvious. That feeling when you want to poke someone's eyes and erase the smug look on their fucking face (example given: Marcus') but you do not want to ruin your flatmate's date. Because for the first time in forever, Sherlock Holmes has finally gone out on a date. But not with John. 

_And who's fault was that?_

John clenches his fists, bowing down to take a deep breath before glancing at Sherlock. He felt the scowl in his face deepen, when he sees Marcus' face nuzzling the space between Sherlock's neck and collarbone (with a hint of a fucking tongue). 

John turns away because it felt too much. The two had been flirting (well Marcus) non-stop since he arrived a few minutes late from the clinic. 

_You could've asked him on a date when you had the chance before. But no, you became one stubborn idiot. Well, now, look at you._

This ordeal was entirely his fault.  
He shouldn't let himself got carried away when Sherlock practically begs him to accompany him to this ... date yesterday afternoon. He was content in reading the comments from his blog and organising his drafts. But he took pity in Sherlock's pleading voice. When he asked Sherlock what he would do while he was on a date, the man just shrugged and murmured something about the place being Marcus' restaurant and the guy's sister is a chef in it.

John swallows the lump on his throat when the raging disappointment over himself crashes around him. He should stop feeling this way.

"John?" Sherlock's deep voice brings him back in the present and immediately, he felt Sherlock's warm hand envelope his. 

"Mmm?" John responds, schooling himself before facing Sherlock. Silently cursing himself at the worry he sees from Sherlock's watery eyes.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asks with a shudder. John observes as Sherlock blushes and pushes Marcus away a bit. Because the guy finally hit that sensitive spot on Sherlock's neck that John had been wanting to worship whenever Sherlock comes out fresh from the shower, only wearing a robe that usually slips from his shoulder.

He was about to answer when something else caught his attention. Not just something. Several things. Suddenly, a crashing realisation pours over him like cold water. 

"Sherlock, what have you ordered?"

"What?" Sherlock breathes with a dazed look. "I..." 

Swelling of lips … shortness of breath… reddening of skin...  
No...

"I ordered for him, mate. It was my sister's new recipe. It's just an Asian variety of Carbonara. It's a new offe—"

"What's in it?" John growls, he needs to be sure.

"W-What?"

"The food you ordered, you dolt!" John stands up and grabs Marcus' pristine suit.

"I … I have no idea. It was a new recipe and I trusted my sister to..."

There was a commotion and a woman in a chef’s uniform stood beside Marcus. It must be the sister. “It was a seafood platter recipe,” She murmurs, her voice a shaky tremble in the low conversations that’s happening around her. “But I used powder and seafood flakes. Marcus … Oh my God. Doctor, I’m so sorry. I have no idea my brother’s date has an allergy.”

Oh, God. 

In the corner of his vision, Sherlock’s eyes widen in panic as he suddenly grabs his throat. It was enough for John to get himself together. Sherlock needs him. He reaches for Sherlock's erratic pulse and notes them in his mind.

“Hang on, love. You’re going to be okay. I’m just right here.” John murmurs for only Sherlock to hear. Sherlock’s unfocused gaze searches for him but John couldn’t take back that slip of tongue. 

"Where's his coat?" John asks Marcus out loud who's standing there watching Sherlock with wide eyes as if Sherlock was a wild animal about to strike. "Marcus!"

Marcus blinks at him. "I … I l-left it in my car. I asked Sherlock not to carry it. We wouldn't be staying long anyway—"

"Fuck! His EpiPen was there you bloody dolt!—Does anyone have two doses of auto-injector here please?" John bellows around him in his commanding voice.

He should've brought the other pair, it was just there in the clinic's medicine cabinet. If something happens to Sherlock, John would never ever forgive himself.

"Doctor Watson! I have another pair!"  
A woman shouts from the other end of the restaurant, while another woman runs to get it and hands them to John.

Sherlock moans beside him and John immediately administers the first dose in the middle of Sherlock's thigh. He removes his jacket, folding it, and carefully lays Sherlock on the floor while Marcus places his jacket beneath Sherlock's head.

After five minutes, John gives the second dose. He murmurs his gratitude to the ladies who's husbands were his patients and then vowed to replace the doses.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea. He didn't tell me." Marcus whispers beside him. John turns away when Marcus carefully combs Sherlock's curls behind his ear in a tender gesture. It seem as though Marcus really cares for Sherlock.

"You could've asked him you know? I almost—" John backtracks before clearing his throat." we, almost lost him."

The guy lets out little laugh and it was then that John notices the sad frown in Marcus' face.

"We hardly talk about himself you know. I, talk about my self. But when I ask about him, he deflects and talks about you. This is the third time I asked him for a date, for God's sake. And even now, you have to be here?"

"What?" He asks in confusion.

Marcus sighs before sitting on the floor beside Sherlock's head.

"First date, he excused himself that he has an experiment and he left it to you. So he said, 'I need to go home to John—I mean, my experiment."

John's jaw drops open. When now words escape him, Marcus continued.

"Second date, I told him about my family. He told me about your family. How really lovely Clara was and that he wished your sister, Harry, and Clara would make up. So you, wouldn't be stressed about it when Harry drinks because he's missing Clara. So you, wouldn't think too much."

“Sherlock Holmes, you bloody idiot.”  
He murmurs under his breath.

"And third, he even invited you. I guess I already have my answer. You two should talk about this. And please tell Sherlock that I'll cover for any additional check-ups he'll undergo if needed be.”

John blinks at the man. Gone was the confident bank owner and in its place was a shell of a man reeking with regret and disappointment, but not toward Sherlock but to one’s self. Like him earlier.

He observes Marcus staring at Sherlock's sleeping form before he turns away and punches the emergency helpline for an ambulance.

••••••

John yawns by the window, stretching his legs while the ambulance drives away from Marylebone Street. After the eight hour observation period Sherlock’s condition got better and the doctor allowed him to be discharged. So even if it’s already three in the morning, John took Sherlock home. And since then, Sherlock went to his bedroom without talking to John. 

John releases a sigh. Now that they were already in the comfort of their home, John’s hesitating on how to approach Sherlock about what happened earlier. The man almost died for Christ’s sake. 

“John …”

John turns surprised to find Sherlock with a solemn look on his face standing by his own bedroom’s door.

“Hey,” John softly replies. He closes the curtains then walks to sit on his chair. He then tilts his head over the opposite chair for Sherlock to sit. 

Sherlock complies albeit walking slowly to his chair. 

John watches as Sherlock settles across from him. Both hands fidgeting as if he wants to be anywhere but not in front of him.

“Alright?” He inquires trying to keep his calm.

Sherlock glances at him warily before nodding slowly then looking down on his hands again. “Yes…” 

John didn’t reply. He wants to be angry. To lash out at Sherlock. He got so close to losing the man again, and for what reason? Sherlock’s date not looking out for him. He considers Marcus’ reasons. But he knows Sherlock, John knows the man won’t sacrifice his life for nothing. Hell, himself is one of the proofs for that. Still, John forces himself not to think of where Marcus would've taken Sherlock if the man didn’t have an attack. His mansion? His estate? A fancy hotel? John can’t afford those. No, he can’t give Sherlock anything. What was he really thinking that he can compete with the men that can hold Sherlock’s attention.

A warm hand touches his cheek and John blinks in surprise to see Sherlock kneeling in between his legs. Christ. He was drowning himself in self-pity that he hadn’t noticed Sherlock walking towards him.

Sherlock regards him warily. And that’s when John finally understood. Sherlock has taken a step towards him. Now, it’s his turn. There’s no going back. He must soldier on to face his feelings.

Placing a hand over Sherlock’s, John let the pent up emotions inside of him fall as tears in his eyes. Locking gaze with Sherlock, he speaks what his heart had been saying from the first time he met the man.

“I can’t lose you again.” He begins. “Sherlock, the last few hours… made me realise that… if you won’t learn the truth. I won’t be able to survive the regret.”

“John—”

“Whatever happens, I am so irrevocably in love with you.” John closes his eyes because he didn’t want to see Sherlock’s reaction. That someone like him had been in … but his thoughts stop when Sherlock’s firm hand squeezes the back of his neck. Opening his eyes, he sees Sherlock beaming at him, and then the next, he has a lap full of consulting detective kissing the life out of him. John returns the kiss with all the fervour of emotions he's feeling from the beginning. That when they parted, both were sporting the evidence of said emotions poured into each other's kiss.

“I love you too, John…” Sherlock whispers against his lips. John marveled at the high he was feeling that Sherlock feels the same. “I tried dating others but it was always you.” Sherlock smiled sheepishly at him. Then it falters and a sad one replaces it.

“I apologise, John. For scaring you. I promise I won’t let it happen again.” 

“No, it won’t.” He agrees. “Because I won’t let that happen, Sherlock. Not if I can prevent it.”

Sherlock then smiles again, and John’s world has brightened up too.  
“I know, Doctor Watson. And now …”  
Sherlock trails as he stands up, and John finds himself being pulled in Sherlock’s bedroom. 

“Let’s take a much needed rest, John.” Sherlock innocently declares.

John hides his groan with a smile as Sherlock laughs in front of him.

> THE END 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The medical aspect of this work was based online from UK Health agencies and sites. I do not have a professional medical beta for this (as much as I've been dying to consult Doc J). This is a two, Sherlock would be bored. Aha. So the bloody mistakes are all definitely missed words by me. I apologise. 💔


	3. Day 3: 02/03: Prompt #3: Storm — the heart of the matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #3: Storm**  
>    
> Additional Tags: Post-Reichenbach, Original Characters, Implied Violence, Graphic depiction of Wounds from said Violence, John Rescues Sherlock, Soft!Sherlock, Mild Angst, A Kiss, Hopeful Ending
> 
> **SUMMARY:**
> 
> **John made himself believed that he has already moved on from Sherlock's death — until Mycroft's sudden appearance in front of his parents' doorsteps a year and a half later, proved that there was never a 'moving on' phase that happened.**
> 
> I decided to up the rating since I've described a bit of implied violence here. Just a bit though. Sherlock's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the jumping of tenses or whatever grammar errors you'll encounter. It was all my fault. Thank you so much for reading. 🙏🏼
> 
> — Chapter title came from: "The Heart of the Matter" a song recorded by American rock singer Don Henley from his third solo studio album, The End of the Innocence (1989). - Wiki — Another favourite heartbreaking song.

**• JOHN •**

_Somewhere in Serbia ..._

The loud clap of thunder woke John from an uncomfortable sleep. He rubbed his eyes as he adjusted seeing in the darkness before waking up his phone to look at the time—0200. The dark dilapidated building across the rusty old car where he was hiding, was the last place of Sherlock's location according to Mycroft's source. He glanced at the dim light on the road provided by the lamp posts and the thickening snow moulds on the ground. The midnight weather forecasters had already issued a code red severe weather warning as the snowstorm turned for the worst.  
Snow drifts in some places were already three meters high. It's going to be a long cold night.

When he saw Sherlock jumped off the Bart's rooftop about a year and a half ago, he almost lost his mind. He became a wanderer in London. He left Baker Street after Sherlock's funeral and said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson. The last part was the hardest. The landlady was like his mother. Saying goodbye to her was equal to saying goodbye to the memories. To the life he had with Sherlock. 

Then he went to Harry's. He unpublished his blog. He reconnected with his parents in Suffolk. Despite their disapproval of his enlistment all those years ago, they took him back. He spent his time tending to his mother's garden and helping his father fix broken things. But still, he couldn't fix himself. He has fixed things, but he couldn't fix his broken heart Sherlock's death had caused. He couldn't even try dating. How could he? When that memory of seeing Sherlock standing at the edge of that rooftop, all he wanted to do was grab the man and hold him. That he wanted to reassure Sherlock that he didn't believe Sherlock was just faking it. 

But what he didn't expect was finding Mycroft in his parents' doorsteps that fateful day of September with a bunch of MI6 agents behind him. 

Mycroft had looked him in the eye with an intense gaze and told him Sherlock isn't dead and that they needed to rescue him. Because something went wrong in the undercover mission his brother got sent. That he — needed to rescue Sherlock with the help of the skilled men he, John Watson would choose. In which John crisply replied, _'Fuck you, Mycroft,'_ before he punched the man's jaw.

If not for his father's reasoning and the multitude of emotions he hadn't seen before crossing Mycroft's face he wouldn't have agreed. 

Mycroft was afraid for his brother. That this time he wouldn't really be able to do something to save him. Then he was told about the Lazarus Plan. How Sherlock survived, and then the next Mycroft was telling him that Sherlock has feelings for him. Feelings more than friendship. That at the last moment they had contact, Sherlock told Mycroft that he should remain dead in John's memory. 

Mycroft admitted that they had a lapse of judgement because of that. Not the feelings, but the fact that they ... should have informed John in the first place. It's the closest thing to an apology and acceptance John had received from Mycroft. 

It was only then the realisation came into John. It was only then that he finally accepted his fate. That he finally accepted what he really feels. He stood in front of Mycroft, a hair's breath in between them as he told the imposing man; "I know you still could've done something to stop this from happening Mycroft. I wouldn't ask of you to tell me, because I'm sure half of this was Sherlock's. But I'm telling you now, as much as I want him — to be the first person to hear this — I love your brother. I am in love with him. I still am. And ..."

But Mycroft stopped him, "John — if there is one person that is capable of loving my brother against all odds, it is you. Save him, John. Save him like you did when the two of you first met. Save him, and tell him what you told me."

And now, Sherlock was out there. In the cold, in the dark, in the hands of the remaining men of Jim Moriarty. 

He shuddered from the chill that passed through the car's broken windshield. Pulling his winter jacket closer to his body, John ran the plan in his mind. Wait for Mycroft's go signal, look for Sherlock, retrieve Sherlock, take him home. 

But when a movement caught his attention on the far side of the building, he took his gun at ready and tucked the spare behind his jeans. 

"Freeman," John said through the com.

There was a crackle of static before the agent answered. "Sir," 

A huge beam of light passed just above his head causing John to duck immediately.

"Status report." He murmured through the com. John watched the far side once again when the beam transferred to the other side. "Looks like they know we're here. Any sightings of the other perps?" He added.

"We found ten men, Sir. Two outside, a tentative count of four inside—" There was another crackle of static before the agent continued. "Fallon reported, he and Graves are pursuing two men. We can expect the rest are guarding the package." A pause. "Affirmative, Sir. Two men are guarding the first room situated near the west wing of the building just off the stairs. Goode reported he saw Mr Holmes chained inside."

John bit back a curse before he replied.  
"Alright, I'm going in. Back me up, keep low. Thank you, Martin. Over."

"Be careful, John—", Mycroft's voice said from a new connection. "You might've forgiven me ... a bit. But if you die, my brother ... isn't that forgiving."

John scoffed. "I doubt it Mycroft," he cocked his gun and got out of the car. "Your brother admires you more than you think. Where do you think those severed body parts go after he's finished with it?"

The simultaneous sharp intakes of breath from the agents listening made him smile a little. 

"Also, who says I've forgiven you? Not. One. Fucking. Bit. Over and out." He clicked the com off, rearranged his winter gears, and went further into the night.

I'll save you. No matter what happens, I'll come for you. Even if it's the last thing I'm gonna do.

**• SHERLOCK •**

He grimaced as he tasted blood when he licked his lips. He could feel his gum swelling which will definitely be a bitch if he ever had the chance to kiss John. He bit out a laugh at the thought and in doing so, made him wince at the pain on his side. That kick he took earlier made its presence known. He's not even surprised if he's bleeding inside. 

Sherlock Holmes kissing John Watson? What a pair they would have made—ridiculous. He shouldn't have let his guard down from that last call from Mycroft. But if there's one thing Mycroft was so good at. It was meddling.

"Руке у вис!"  
_"Hands in the air!"_

Sherlock's head perked up as he heard that commanding voice. It was all too familiar. 

_But that's impossible. John's safe in London. He can't be ..._

A figure in a black winter jacket emerged from the darkened hallway through the door followed by six men who were clearly MI6. All rifles and handgun's up and pointed at the two perps who had their hands in the air. The men circled the perps, and with another order from the leader whose gaze was now locked on him, while the MI6 moved the perps out.

Sherlock swallowed, as the leader, took a step towards him. The cut in his eyebrows from the scalpel a perp used on him makes looking stung, but he missed that voice. And he knew that built, those piercing ocean eyes directed at him. And when John crouched down in front of him and removed his goggles, tears began to fall from Sherlock's eyes. 

He mouthed John's name and tried to lean forward, but the chains behind him prevented him. In a flash, John was on the lock and chains, bolt cutter at hand. The lock wasn't the thick kind and Sherlock was sure if he only had his strength he could've picked the lot. But there's something in the way that John moves intimately while freeing him that makes Sherlock tense. He closed his eyes, biting his injured lower lip when he felt John's breath against his neck. 

He tried to clear his throat and winced. That hurt. "I haven't showered for two months."

"So?" John mouthed against the skin of his neck felt that made him shudder. It wasn't 'goodbye'. John won't — 

Suddenly, a needle punched through the skin of his shoulder and he instantly jerked away. It was only then Sherlock noticed the syringe John was hiding away. With wide eyes, he searched John's gaze, but when the man looked at him, he only saw resignation and tiredness in them. Gone was the former soldier earlier. This time it was only John. 

"Listen to me carefully Mister Holmes, I'm going to save you this time — and then, we're gonna go our separate ways from now on." 

Sherlock no longer felt anything after hearing those words. Maybe it was the drug, as if it was a spell after John said the magic words. It coursed through Sherlock's system and he felt very sleepy. Maybe it was for the best as well. John Watson had changed. No. The John Watson from the past was back. 

His eyes began to drop when John sealed the spell. "I love you, Sherlock. Goodbye."

When Sherlock woke up, he was in a private hospital in Germany, and John was nowhere to be found.

**• JOHN •**

_Two months later  
London, Valentine's Day_

After the completion of the mission, John left Sherlock in Germany to heal under Mycroft's care. He instructed Mycroft not to call him. Now, back in London, he expected everything to return to normal. 

He finally gave in and let his mother fuss about a date she'd been pestering him with for Valentine's Day. He went as far as asking if it was a woman or a man but his mother won't say anything, other than the date she's got for him for the last time was the perfect choice. There was a storm warning later in the evening, so he planned on leaving early. Maybe he could invite his date Now, if only he could convince himself that what he is going to do would be for the best.

But the moment he stepped out of his new flat, the sky poured its disappointment over him. Not to mention this voice inside his head telling him to call Mycroft and ask for Sherlock. No, he won't do that.

He ran as fast as he could under the rain towards the shed by the road. The bus would arrive soon. Unfortunately for him, he's already wet and dripping when he made it to the bus-stop. 

The wind howled as the rain angrily drop its strength against the shed's rooftop. Storm escalated over the hour. John removed his jacket and squeezed the water from it. Now that his jacket has been thoroughly soaked at seven in the evening, there was no way he'll be able to make it to that date. He might need to cancel. His mother won't be happy but whoever in their right mind would go on a date when a storm clearly were hell bent on preventing it? Someone then arrived and stood a distance beside him but he was too busy to even notice the person was hesitating to speak. 

John was about to run back to his flat when the person beside him spoke, making him froze.

"I know a Chinese at the end of Baker Street. It's open 24 hours now." 

John crossed his arms in front of his chest throwing the man a wary but amused gaze.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, a bit surprised at his own measured voice. John was thankful his voice hadn't cracked with emotions. Because it's all coming back now, and he needs to stop it, before his own storm destroys him.  
"I know you heard what I said that last time, Sherlock."

Sherlock's shoulder dropped and John felt like punching himself. Fuck, he was hurt alright. But he knows Sherlock too. However, what John went through, it has been too long, and the pain hasn't stopped.

"I want to thank you for going after me, John. You saved me again." Sherlock whispered and John gave a tight nod.

The heavy rain coupled with the roaring wind blew through the waiting shed and the both of them shivered from the cold. John then noticed that Sherlock was saying something but he had to shout because the pitter-patter of the rain against the rooftops were too loud.

Sherlock then closed their distance and leaned down to his ear and whispered. "I said, 'And I love you too, John. I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness. But will you please consider giving _us_ a chance?'"

John felt the tingling sensation of warmth as Sherlock's deep voice hugged him. Then Sherlock wound his arms tight around his waist, drawing him in.

His chest ached how perfect they fit. It made him realise, his safe place was right there in Sherlock's arms. He could accept the pain but he also deserved Sherlock's love. And so, he's choosing both.

"Alright. You can start grovelling now, Mr Holmes." 

Then John pulled Sherlock's coat collar down, kissing the man with every inch of forgiveness he could give. 

_Sherlock Holmes lives, as does John Watson._

> THE END


	4. Day 4: 02/04: Prompt #4: Dance — all's forgotten now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #4: Dance**
> 
> Chapter Tags: Light Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Post Reichenbach, Soft Johnlock
> 
> **Summary:**
> 
> **Suddenly, he choked in a half laugh and half sob. No, he just didn't like Sherlock. He's bloody in love with him. The peace that coursed through his system made John able to _breathe_ easily.**
> 
> **"Dance with me," He said softly as Sherlock looked at the sky then at him like he's gone mad. There was no going back.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title came from a line on the lyrics of the 1976 Boz Scaggs masterpiece [ "We're All Alone"](https://youtu.be/Nf4_JbtPo6c). A post break-up song. 💔

"So, what now?" John asked while squeezing the rainwater out of his jacket. Sherlock answered him with a shrug.

"We can't really do anything at this point but wait it out." The man said, and once again, John marvelled at that deep baritone voice he achingly missed. He closed his eyes. John thought that losing Sherlock was the hardest part of moving on. But now that the man was back, the picking up the pieces of himself back again has become a torture.

John blew out a deep breath as the both of them looked up in silence and watched the huge dark clouds rolling in in the distance. The village where their crime scene was held lie clouded in fog below.

The past few days since Sherlock came back alive from his 'fake death', John tried to act like it was ... nothing. Like it's just Sherlock being Sherlock with his love for being dramatic. 

But of course, John couldn't really ignore that he _was_ still hurting. For a week , he tried to act normal. After all, Sherlock explained what really happened when Moriarty cornered him at Bart's rooftop. That he needed John to _act_ genuine towards the 'fake death', so the rest of Moriarty's men in London wouldn't go after them. 

At first, John thought it was ridiculous, Sherlock was being ridiculous. He couldn't help but felt abandoned in all of it. For two years he grieved for what? For two years his whole world got shattered. Once he thought he was finally living in colours and then all of a sudden, he's gone black again. Hence, the silent treatment. That's all he could give Sherlock at the moment. Make the man suffer by letting the elephant in the room to stomp in their chests. Because that's what this was it, wasn't it? Because John had accepted it. For the love of God he accepted it. He likes Sherlock Holmes — probably more than that. When Sherlock was _died_ , John had an epiphany. Christ, if that hadn't caused the pain John was feeling back then to double. He's in love with Sherlock Holmes, and all he could do was watch his friend be _that_ dramatic.

Until Mycroft spilled the truth. His, Mrs. Hudson's and Greg's life were in danger. Now, if only Mycroft had learned to shut his mouth, John wouldn't have felt remorse when he punched Sherlock in the nose, and left him alone in that restaurant. No, he wouldn't have hurt Sherlock. Because now John realised, it was fucking worth the pain seeing Sherlock standing there beside him again — alive — staring, more like glaring at the clouds like they stole his favourite cookies Mrs. Hudson baked. 

Suddenly, he choked in a half laugh and half sob. No, he just didn't like Sherlock. He's bloody in love with him. The peace that coursed through his system made John able to _breathe_ easily.

"Dance with me," He said softly as Sherlock looked at the sky then at him like he's gone mad. There was no going back.

"I know what you're thinking." John continued, taking a step toward Sherlock. His hands gripped each other tightly behind. "like I'd gone mad." And he couldn't help but feel pleased when subtly, the taller man stepped back.

"But when you came back, I still can't ... believe it. When I held your wrist, it doesn't have ..." John closed his eyes as the ghost of pain he felt when his fingers held a cold and pulseless wrist that tragic day enveloped him. "And I wasn't even able to tell you ... that I ..."

_I love you. I forgive you. It doesn't matter anymore._

A sharp intake of breath escaped him when he felt warm fingers closed against his. And when John opened his eyes, Sherlock was in front of him. _Looking_ at him. And he knew that Sherlock _knows_. Suddenly, John felt bare naked. As if Sherlock could see through his words. Of what he intend to say.

Then John found himself being dragged in the middle of the rain. The tightness in his throat caused tears to form in his eyes. As the cold rain seeped through his clothes, a hand remained warm against Sherlock's. 

"I'm sorry, John. I really am. I swear I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness." Sherlock whispered against his ear as they swayed against a tune their heartbeats provide.

"Stay." He murmured only for Sherlock to hear. John felt vulnerable but he didn't care anymore.

There was a moment of serenity brought by the sound of rain, as John breathed the smell of petrichor in the air mixed with Sherlock's scent. He hardly resisted the urge to burrow his face against the man's neck. 

Sherlock's hold tightened around him as the man spoke. "You should know by now, that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, except where I already am."

John clutched his other hand at the back of Sherlock's coat as he allowed his first happy tears in two years to fall.

> THE END


	5. Day 5: 02/05: Prompt #5: Choose — where he belonged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #5: Choose**  
>    
> Additional Tags: 221b ficlet, parent!lock, established relationship - husbands
> 
>  **SUMMARY:**  
>  A 221b ficlet. 221 words with the last word starting in letter 'b'.
> 
> Something Rosie did that made Sherlock realised something.

Sherlock blinked at the sight of John, with his head bowed down and palms covering his face. He slowly closed the door as not to surprise Rosie who's busy fumbling with his father's shoelaces. It was then that Sherlock deduced the two had just gone back from a walk while he's out interviewing victims for a murder case that Greg asked him for help.

"Dada!" He smiled when Rosie called him and it was then that John looked up at him.

"Did something happened while I was gone?" Sherlock asked gently while shrugging off his coat and gloves. He went to lift Rosie and kissed John's cheek. 

John smiled affectionately at him as he took Rosie off his arms. "I'll show you."

John then let Rosie down standing beside his chair, before walking back at Sherlock's side.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Come to Dada."  
John cooed as he crouch in one knee opening his arms towards Rosie. 

And when Rosie began to _walk_ in her wobbly legs, Sherlock's breath caught. She sometimes stumbled but eventually she made it in front of them. Sherlock kneeled beside John as Rosie watched them both. She then laughed and touched a hand over his knee and then John's. Choosing both of them, instead of just one. And Sherlock thought, he was right where he belonged.


	6. Day 6: 02/06: Prompt #6: Power Outage — warmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #6: Power Outage**
> 
> Additional Tags: Established relationship - Husbands, innuendos shamelessly thrown here and there 
> 
> **A 221b ficlet. 221 words with the last word starting in letter 'b'.**

"Fuck. Fuck!" John shouted when his finger got caught between the latch and a broken dent of the generator's housing. The bloody thing was ten years old, and the lower casing was covered in rust. They had to ask Mrs. Hudson if they could replace it, for when another snowstorm hits, they would all freeze to death.

"What's wrong, John?" 

John looked over his shoulder and saw Sherlock clutching his robe in one hand and a torch in the other. 

"What are you doing there? Get inside or you'll get cold."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.  
"Says the man who's only wearing a shirt and pyjamas. I'd rather you come back here now with me before you freeze your balls off."

John stood up and grinned at Sherlock.  
"Wow. I never thought I'd see the day that I'd hear my way of talking rubbing off on you."

Sherlock looked at him seductively.  
"Well, you certainly _rub off_ of me this morning." Sherlock wiggled his eyebrows up and down making John laugh. Christ, he really loved the man. Until now he couldn't believe Sherlock was finally his. They've come a long way to have this.

"Then Mr. Watson-Holmes, you better turn around and go back inside, and prepare yourself for a ride." John challenged.

Sherlock smirked. "Even better."


	7. Day 7: 02/07: Prompt #7: Cereal — three of them against the rest of the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #7: Cereal**
> 
> Additional Tags: Established Relationship - Husbands, Parent!lock, Domesticity
> 
> **SUMMARY:**
> 
> A 221b ficlet. 221 words with the last word starts with letter 'b'.

"Watson, stop it." Sherlock said in a firm voice as he caught a chunk of cereal Rosie just thrown on his face.

The two of them were left at 221b as John had to work at the clinic. It's a blessing that he doesn't have a case to work on or this would be a very different day. He looked at the clock and it was five in the afternoon. John would be home soon. 

He sighed eyeing the four year old toddler. Rosie blinked at him then turned her head away to curiously look around. Slowly, Sherlock got up and snatched the spoon from Rosie's hand with a speed of a martial artist. Unbeknownst of the clump of cereal on the floor in which he step into. 

Arms flailing Sherlock caught Rosie's plate before accidentally throwing it in the air as he landed flat on his back on the floor while the cereal decorated his hair.

Sherlock closed his eye when the front door opened and his husband's laugh permeated throughout the room.

"Really, John?" He scowled. "Very mature." He managed to got up holding his hips and then he kissed Rosie's cheek.

"Having you both — it's like fated or destined ..." John whispered. Sherlock turned to look at his husband and smiled. He kissed John's lips softly and whispered. "Both."


	8. Day 8: 02/08: Prompt #8: Skeptical — and beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #8: Skeptical**
> 
> Additional Tags: Post S4, A glimpse of their Wedding, Parentlock, Molly is a Good Bestie
> 
> **SUMMARY:**
> 
> A 221b ficlet. 221 words with the last word starting with letter 'b'.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked up to see Molly smiling at him by the door.

"Everyone's already at the hall. Are you alright?" She asked gently.

He tried to open his mouth but no words would come out. So he just looked down at his pale hands, clenching and unclenching them.

"You know that John loves you, right? All of the bad memories were in the past now, Sherlock. You already forgiven yourselves. Now, it's time for what's supposed to be to happen." Molly reassured him. 

Of course. Why was he even feeling skeptical about this? Love won. They suffered enough but they survived. He was enough. He was worthy. He looked up and smiled at Molly. "Thank you, Molly."

"We're besties now aren't we?" Molly asked then she chuckled at his confused expression. "I meant friends. That's how the younger generation nowadays — anyway, let's go?"

Sherlock nodded. "Alright." 

His heart swelled at the sight of Rosie carried by his mummy and his dad. And Harriet beside Mrs. Hudson. but what mattered most was the man up front waiting with the officiant. When he reached them, John held out a hand and Sherlock took it.

"I love you. Throughout the happiness and pain." John whispered beside him.

Sherlock met John's steady gaze, and smiled as he softly answered. "'til eternity ends, and beyond."


	9. Day 9: 02/09: Prompt #9: Velvet — velvet seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 9: Velvet**
> 
> Additional Tags: Establish Relationship - Husbands, Sexy times, Foreplay, Kissing, frottage, Frottage is art asdfghjkl—, 221b ficlet
> 
> **SUMMARY:**
> 
> A 221b ficlet. 221 words of foreplay. I meant, 221 words with the last word starting with letter 'b'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ye Explicit. 😌

John was aware of Sherlock's obsession with robes. So, when he thought of a gift for his husband for Valentine's Day, he already knew what to buy. That velvet robe Sherlock's been eyeing when they visited the same store before they got married. 

"You bought me a gift?" Sherlock asked him later over their Valentine's dinner date. 

John nodded. "It's in our bedroom." 

After dinner, John tend to the left-overs while Sherlock went to their bedroom. He just opened a bottle of wine when Sherlock came back, and John's jaw dropped.

Sherlock was now wearing the silk velvet robe tied in the front. John expertly deduced, Sherlock was naked underneath. His throat instantly went dry. Sherlock looked so sexy and fucking tempting. He poured and downed a glass then placed it on the table. Then he stalked his husband. 

Sherlock eyed him with equal desire, arms automatically wrapping around his neck when their lips met hungrily. He then grabbed Sherlock's plump arse, the silk robe smooth against his palms. 

When his jeans met Sherlock's flesh, he groaned loudly. Then Sherlock jumped and wrapped his legs around John's hips. John carefully held Sherlock's legs.

He already knew what Sherlock was gonna say, and he sure as hell won't complain. 

Sherlock leaned down biting John's lower lip. "Captain, take me to bed."


	10. Day 10: 02/10: Prompt #10: Handle — poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #10: Handle**
> 
> Additional Tags: Johnlock Poetry, Sherlock's lament

> **_Handle With Care_ **
> 
> If I choose to give you my heart  
>  Will you handle it with care?  
>  Carry it with both hands  
>  Do not let it slip, never.
> 
> Fragile as glass  
>  So be careful not to trip  
>  Be careful not to part your fingers  
>  Never loose your grip.
> 
> Cradle it close to your chest  
>  Like a baby sound asleep  
>  Close your eyes and feel its beat  
>  Thrumming and in sync.
> 
> With your own it whispers something  
>  It was asking for a chance  
>  To love you and to be loved  
>  Until it beats its last.
> 
> But if we were destined to part  
>  A plea, my love, will you keep my heart?  
>  For it would no longer mean anything  
>  To keep a heart that beats for nothing.


	11. Day 11: 02/11: Prompt #11: Swimming — poetry (prompt used as a metaphor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 11: Swimming**
> 
> Additional Tags: Johnlock poetry, John's POV, first meeting

> **_T I D A L_ **
> 
> Surge of emotions drowns me  
> As our eyes met for the first time  
> You read me like your favourite book  
> Accurate except for the oblivious
> 
> Your eyes where greens and stormy grey battles  
> Collides with my own blues  
> Sparks something inside of me  
> A ship with no sail, unafraid of the sea
> 
> Swimming in the shadow of my own doubts   
> I turned away from you  
> How could you look at someone like me?  
> As if I'm whole, unbroken of reality
> 
> But my heart, my love has already been yours  
> It belongs to you that no one else came close  
> And with you it'll remain  
> Wherever you go
> 
> Like a tidal wave that the ocean owns.


	12. Day 12: 02/12: Prompt #12: Salt — a taste of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #12: Salt**
> 
> Additional Tags: Sherlock cooked for John, Domestic Life at 221b, 221b ficlet, Established Relationship - Boyfriends
> 
> **SUMMARY:**
> 
> A 221b ficlet. 221 word ficlet with the last word starting with the letter 'b'.

"John?"

"Mmm?"

John looked up to Sherlock standing in front of him, holding a bowl of soup in his hands.

"I tried a new recipe today. A Chinese cuisine in honour of the Chinese New Year."

John nodded slowly, his eyes darting at the opaque liquid swirling inside the bowl and then to his boyfriend. Surely, what Sherlock cooked was edible? Right?

"Alright, love. I'm sure this will be great."  
John said.

Sherlock cheerfully passed the spoon to him. 

He put the spoon in his mouth and ... waited. He waited to taste anything different. Nothing. He scooped some more trying to find something. 

It seemed as though Sherlock missed an ingredient. 

An important one in Chinese cuisine. A teaspoon of soy sauce. That's why he couldn't taste any saltiness in the soup.

John bit his lower lip as he laid the spoon down. He had to think of something. But of course, the man before him weren't called a detective for nothing.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked quietly.

John stood up and took both of Sherlock's hands into his. 

"Teach me to cook this?"

Sherlock eyed him, then smiled. 

"Alright. If you want to." Sherlock murmured in reply.

He placed a soft kiss over Sherlock's forehead. "I do. And this time, we'll put soy sauce in it."

John grinned when Sherlock blushed.

> THE END


	13. Day 13: 02/13: Prompt #13: Boss — a Prequel into love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #13: Boss**
> 
> Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Age gap, YA!Sherlock, John is a mob boss, Softest Sherlock, John is BAMF, first kiss, accidental kiss
> 
> **SUMMARY:**
> 
> John Watson, former soldier and now the reigning mob boss of Silver Cross Traders, visits his old friend Mike Stamford.

John stared at the nameplate hanging on the wooden door and grinned. 

Dr Mike Stamford, Senior Lecturer in Chemistry Education. 

_Will you look at that? Well done, Mike._

He nodded at Phil and Jim standing on both sides of the door. Phil in turn nodded at Jim. While Jim knocked on the door, John mulled at the old times, as he waited for the occupant of the office to answer.

John remembered Mike pursuing teaching while he worked at Bart's. And then, even if it was against his parents' bidding, he still signed himself in the army. But after two years of being deployed, he thought the worst of it were his soldiers dying. Until he got abducted from an ambush and got shot at. He played weak in the face of the Talibans. John treated his own injuries like a fucking caped hero all by himself from the comics. He escaped abduction from mixing poisons he found from his abductors. And after six months in captivity, he was able to kill his targets, walked the desert to the nearest army base he knew of and thank his lucky stars, he was taken care of. John had almost lost the will to live. But the American soldiers that saved him, were the ones that convinced him to pull it together. That he was still a soldier. And then he was transferred to a British base where he underwent treatment and therapy. And then he was discharged. All of the accounts that happened to him were all marked confidential. And John was grateful for that. But of course, the post trauma he got as a parting gift never made his life easy. He became an alcoholic. His parents disowned him, and only his twin sister, Harriet, made the effort to visit him to his little army issued flat before. It was also Harriet's death from drunk driving, introduced him to the life he's living now. A grieving brother, a drunken fist fight against a former gang member set to stab the mob's boss in the back, if not for John saving the old man — and voila! John's the new recruit. That was ten years ago. Now, he's the boss for seven years.

But Mike, dearest friend Mike, never paid him a visit. Not once.

He understood that though, who would want to visit and rekindled their friendship to someone who'd been a subject of the rumours of giving away confidential informations to the enemies, so they wouldn't kill him. So they would let him escape. He never did though. He was, still, the good soldier. What he did to escape the Talibans of Afghanistan were much ... personal. One he never held against his fellow soldiers but to the higher ups. He was pulled into reminiscing when the old but familiar bright smile of his friend Mike greeted him from the opened door, and that same smile vanishing when Mike's pair of beady green eyes found his. 

"Hey, Mike." John saluted by the door as he stepped forward, his grin widening when Mike retreated back inside the teacher's office and he followed. Now, his old pal Mike Stamford was staring at him with wide eyes and a slacked haw. John thought if he's a really bad man, he'd gave Mike the reason for sweating. Perhaps he could threaten Mike on allowing a non-existent drug inside the school's premises or something. It's close to the truth anyway. Why he was there first _thing_ in the morning. In the years he'd been reigning as The Boss, no one ever dared to disobey his rules. One of them was prohibiting selling to teenagers and schools. But just recently, two reports from his contact on MET told him about a drug circulating the schools.

John observed Mike as the latter cleared his throat before speaking.  
"Classes will start at 7, John. May I help you with something?" 

John shook his head. "Not really. I'm just here to pay a visit to an old friend. I'm still allowed to do that aren't I?"

Across from him, Mike's shiny forehead from sweating bullets are clearly visible. He almost laughed. His reputation of grilling his subjects had obviously reached his friend. A master of all trades (literally, the mob's business) in the ports of London and the nearby cities, John doesn't like it when his people are doing something behind his back.

"O-Of course, John. You've had your education here. Of course you're allowed."

He smiled briefly, "Thank you, Mike." Then he leaned forward clasping his hands in front of him. "Say, do you hear about this ... drug ... going around the campuses? Any idea who's bringing them? Any suspicious bloke around?"

Mike's eyes widened once more before shaking his head side to side. 

"I DO NOT!" Mike exclaimed. And John couldn't help but raised an eyebrow at the volume of the man's voice.

Mike had seemed to recover because he quietly apologised and again defended the school from him. As if he would allow someone to destroy King's. 

John got up and buttoned his dark blue suit.  
"Alright. I just want to let you know that I'll leave some of my people around the school's vicinity outside—"

"But John, you don't have to. We have the police—" Mike interjected.

"Yes. Yes, of course." He countered. "But I want to make sure. No one's going behind my back. Or they will pay the consequences before the police get to them." 

Mike nodded and looked down at the white marble floor.

"See you around, Mike."

John closed the door to the faint farewell of his friend. He was pulling out his phone to type a text message to Phil when something hard slammed behind him, throttling his phone in the air. John dove to grab it and twisting in time to catch the light weight of that 'someone'. He grunted as his back met the hard floor and grimaced at the taste of blood inside his mouth. His tongue might be the one that's bleeding, or his lip. And that was when John became aware of something _soft_ against his lips. It was also just then that he realised he has closed his eyes. 

Slowly, John opened his eyes and if he wasn't lying on the floor, his lower back hinting of muscle pain, he would've thought he was dreaming. Dreaming of an unusual pair of eyes belonging to a man staring down at him. Said man looking so gorgeous and almost like an angel with an Aristocratic nose bridge, and sharp cheekbones minus the wings.  
With raven curls that John thought of grabbing while he slid his now 'painfully aware of close proximity' cock inside those beautiful pinkish lips. Softest lips he'd ever felt. The women he had his sweet time before had soft lips as well. But maybe because John were used to them. It doesn't give him something to look forward to, at least physically. 

And that was before he felt bolder and his hands automatically felt the pair of arse cheeks covered in jeans that John almost groaned. Christ, he would make sure he'd get laid later. So, before he'd given in to this temptation that's seem comfortable lying on top of him he smiled against the man's lips, and murmured.

"Shouldn't we date first, sweetheart?"  
And just like that, the heaven vanished.

The man scrambled to get up almost kneeing John's crotch if he hadn't covered it with his hands on time.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Mister!" The young man exclaimed before picking up the scattered Chemistry books and papers and then piling them all up in his arms. John was surprised at the hoarse and deep baritone voice of the guy. It doesn't fit his image at all. John imagines he would've been soft spoken. Must be the nerves.

The young man before him blushed when John kept on staring. The other thing that John noticed was he was taller than him. That wasn't a surprise. John's one of those average height Englishmen. But he's got a bit muscle here and there because of his army training before. A routine he gingerly kept while his bad shoulder healed and even when he no longer served. 

John smiled to himself as he pretend to dust his suit. The young man's eyes widens as he probably thought John would get mad. Instead, John looked up and eyed the man slowly. 

"It's alright. Just be careful next time."  
He calmly replied when his phone rang. John looked at the screen. It was Phil.

"One sec." He politely gestured at the young man who nodded hesitantly, before he turned his back and immediately answered the call.

"Boss, the Crows found one of the couriers." Phil voice said from the other line.

"Good. Bring him to the red warehouse. I'll follow you there. Call Matthew and tell him I'm gonna need his ride in five."

"Yes, sir." Phil replied and the call ended.

John turned with a small smile on his face. The guy was definitely checking his arse. 

"So." He said a bit loudly startling the young man. "Sorry. Habit. I was a soldier."

The young man blushed again and nodded. "I ... I should get going. I still have my project to do... and some homeworks." Beautiful stranger said quietly. 

John was about to reply when Mike's door opened again causing the young man to panic and run towards the exit. 

John muttered a curse under his breath.  
He ran a hand over his hair.

"Everything alright?" Mike asked from behind him. John turned to face Mike and found him eyeing him warily. "I heard a commotion..." 

John nodded flashing Mike a genuine smile. "Of course. I just slipped."

Mike's eyebrow raised this time.  
"Really, John?"

"Yes."

Mike snorted. "You're a really bad liar."

That got out a laugh from him which Mike mirrored until his friend pointed at something on the floor. 

"That yours?" 

John followed Mike's hand and that's when he sees the black wallet. He doesn't carry one. Still, he turned to Mike and claimed it. Mike nodded and then eventually left him on his own.

"Really my lucky day." John grinned to himself as he picked up the black wallet, and hid it inside his suit jacket. He'll inspect it later. For now, the boss of Silver Cross Traders Inc. was needed. 

John then left the school, his fingers subconsciously touching his lips from time to time, imagining the ghost of the other and if he'll ever have the chance of feeling them once more.


	14. Day 14: 02/14: Prompt #14: Ugly — beautiful in his eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #14: Ugly**
> 
> Additional Tags: OOC, Original Character, Soft Johnlock, fluff, all the feels, implied bullying 
> 
> **Summary:**
> 
> In all the years John had been living with Sherlock, he noticed how attractive the man was. But Sherlock doesn't seem to be aware of it, or the man would only recognise how he looked, if it's for a case. —
> 
> So, John planned to boost Sherlock's self confidence. To show Sherlock that he should be aware of how really good looking he was — in John's eyes.

In all the years John had been living with Sherlock, he noticed how attractive the man was. But Sherlock doesn't seem to be aware of it, or the man would only recognise how he looked, if it's for a case. The man was in his own words, 'married to his work'. But Greg once told him that Sherlock has been called 'ugly' and 'freak', until now. Because of the longer contour of his face and his unusual coloured eyes.

So, John planned to boost Sherlock's self confidence. To show Sherlock that he should be aware of how really good looking he was — in John's eyes.

"This suits you, Sherlock." John declared one afternoon, as they were looking out for a potential serial killer that was said to roam the street of Camden, while they hide inside a clothing store. Sherlock blinked at him and at the midnight blue robe in his hand. 

John nodded. "No jokes around. It'll bring the colour of your eyes. So, you won't overwear your favourite dressing gowns."

Sherlock didn't say anything. But the man eyed him curiously before hesitantly reaching for the long fabric. John observed as the little touches of Sherlock's finger gradually became a palm running over the garment, and after that a small smile actually appeared on the man's lips. And for some unknown reason, John's heart skipped a beat.

The second time John thought about his experiment, it wasn't really the best of time. Because thinking about buying another purple shirt for his best friend while being hunted by two perps inside an abandoned warehouse without Sherlock wasn't really what he should be doing. But thinking on how to escape the two. In the end, he decided that he should buy another one before one of the perps successfully clubbed him in the head.

The following instances had been rather awkward. John was walking with Ginny, the nurse as his date when he found a navy blue two piece-suit on display. He then proceeded to ask for Ginny's opinion about it. He kept on talking and explaining how Sherlock's lithe frame would fit all the sides of that suit only to realise he's been speaking to no one. In the end, he bought the suit and asked Mycroft to gift it to Sherlock, in the guise of it coming from the older brother. Mycroft eyed him in silence, just like Sherlock did the first time. It was nerve-wracking. But John was determined to show Sherlock that he should pay attention on feeling confident with how he looked at all times. Not just in front of people, and not just for a case. That he shouldn't listen to what others would say.

But what pushed John to the limit — impossible but true — was Sherlock's Aunt Merle, the older sister of Sherlock's mother. As Sherlock got hit by the perp in the face, John would've called the emergency line but his stubborn patient insisted of heading to his Aunt's house.

"Goodness! William! What in the love of God happened to you?! And who is this old man you're traveling with? Have you got no shame young man?! Parading that ugly and battered face of yours?! Lilian should learn about this! I'm going to—"

"Hold up!" John exclaimed. He was seething. 

The old woman stared at him slack jawed with a frown on her wrinkled face.

"Excuse me, ma'am. But please forgive us if we're not here to listen to your preaching. Your nephew's face is bleeding. I would've taken him to the hospital if not for him asking to go here instead. Now, if you won't be able to help us, then we're going.

"Come on, love—" Both Sherlock and Aunt Merle stared at him with wide eyes.  
Fuck. He didn't mean to let that slip. It's now or never then. So, he turned to Aunt Merle, and said, "You know, Sherlock's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He's attractiveness not just because of his looks. He's smart. He plays the violin. And he's a darn great detective. There's not an inch of ugliness in him, so you better keep your opinions to yourself if you know it'll just hurt others. Thank you."

John took a deep breath before he dialled the emergency line. He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him, and part of him just wanted to kiss the hell out of the man. But because of Sherlock's lip injury, he had to scold himself for even thinking about Sherlock's lush lips. 

Later that evening, John sat on the couch with Sherlock's head on his lap. He knew right there and then that something had shifted between the two of them after what happened earlier in Aunt Merle's residence. What they would do with that change ... John could only hope for the better for what the following days would bring. And if Sherlock still needed that reassurance, if he wouldn't believe in John, John swore to tell Sherlock everyday, how beautiful he was.

> THE END


	15. Day 15: 02/15: Prompt #15: Arguments — the baby elephant in a jumper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #15: Arguments**
> 
> Additional Tags: Mrs Hudson's POV, Established John and Sherlock, Boyfriends, John's infamous jumpers, no baby elephants were harmed in this fic, Sherlock's secret, John and Sherlock are perfect for each other, Informal writing
> 
> **SUMMARY:**
> 
> A very domestic life in 221 Baker Street.

Mrs. Hudson was humming to herself while tending to her house plants when she suddenly heard loud voices coming from the flat upstairs. She sighed. Sherlock and John were at it again. But not what _you_ think. Sherlock probably left his vials unattended once again, or the leftovers became the subject of his experiment. When will these couple realise that an argument would never be the answer?Communication. Always.

She was startled when the door banged open and heavy footsteps came down the stairs.

"I swear Sherlock, if I find one of my jumpers in your closet once again, I'm gonna put a lock on my own!" John shouted at the man who's in front of him, and currently making silly faces unbeknownst to the former. 

Sherlock can be a child sometimes. She shook her head.

"It was one jumper, John." Sherlock glared behind him. "Besides, those nurses at Bart's from _all_ genders were always handing a replacement every single time you whinge you've lost—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake — I do not whine! I'm frustrated!" John despite himself, _whinged_ and in frustration when he tried to grab Sherlock's arm but the man got away. 

Mrs Hudson sighed. Her expertise were needed ... again. 

She took a deep breath and bellowed.  
"BOYS!"

Effective. The two stopped bickering like old couples (older than her, even) and turned to her. 

Sherlock blinked then pouted. Ah. Yes. Sherlock Holmes always does that whenever he needed dear old Mrs. Hudson's motherly care. 

"Well? What is it this time, Sherlock?"  
She raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Nothing worth arguing about, Mrs. Hudson. Really. We're sorry—" John countered.

"No, John. Both of you, stop prancing around this recurring _argument_ of yours. If Sherlock is only calling you in your free time from the conference he won't be missing you this much." Then she turned to John. "Your jumper is the closest thing for Sherlock as having you near. He misses you that bad whenever you're away, John."

Sherlock gasped. "Mrs Hudson—"

"Hush, boy." She said, glaring at Sherlock. "He's cuddling it and carrying it to his bedroom and I once saw him wearing it. But obviously, he knows he couldn't stop you from doing your job and your responsibilities as a doctor." She added gently to a stunned looking John. 

John blinked at her. "W-What?" Then the man turned slowly to Sherlock who's now biting his lower lip. Mrs. Hudson silently watched the interaction. Such an unusual couple but their differences complimented them. 

"You're missing me?" John asked Sherlock in a gentle voice. Love shone in John's eyes and she could say the same for Sherlock. Sherlock hasn't looked at anyone, the way he's looked at John.

She watched as Sherlock uncomfortably shifted on his foot before nodding to the floor. Nope. She won't have that.

"Sherlock—"She warned. If these two won't get themselves sorted she'd definitely needed to enrol them to a couples therapy. "Sort yourselves, boys. You've come a long way. Do not let silly arguments ruined what you've built." She added. A beat passed and John thanked her, and then Sherlock followed. 

Sensing a baby elephant in the room was about to pounce in these two, she left them in the front to head back to her flat. 

She heard John repeated the question in which Sherlock whispered his answer. She softly closed her door but not before seeing Sherlock's face redden at the loving attention John was giving to him. Ah. To be young and in love. 

Later that evening, there were loud noises again. She sighed before placing her AirPods in her ears. It's that time of the night for a great retro music marathon.

> THE END


	16. Day 16: 02/16: Prompt #16: Trinket — a haiku for sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #16: Trinket**
> 
> Additional Tags: John writes Haiku this time, so sue me - i only listen to what John wants, he wrote it for Sherlock, haiku

_(Text on Image: on the upper left corner is the title of the whole fan fiction work, "in any universe, i'd choose you. Below that is the name of the writer, by allsovacant. Under that is the hashtag, #johnlockhaiku.)_

> **_In a sea of gems_  
>  _You call yourself a trinket_  
>  _and I call you mine_  
> ** _— John to Sherlock_


	17. Day 17: 02/17: Prompt 17: Delusion — tell me it's real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 17: Delusion**
> 
> Additional Tags: Established Relationship - Husbands, Delusion disorder, Relapse, Parent!lock, John Watson is a good man, Soft Sherlock, Adoption
> 
> **Summary:**
> 
> John surprises Sherlock for their anniversary, but not before the latter mistaken it for something else and therefore results on a relapse.

For the third time this week, John went out again. The fact that Sherlock couldn't contact his husband immediately and John would only reply later on in vague words, made him think of things he thought he would never experience again. 

_John loves me. He always tells me. He always makes me—_ His thoughts were halted by his phone ringing. When he looked at the screen, it was an unknown number. Hesitantly, he answered.

"Hello?" He greeted.

"Hi!" An unfamiliar voice answered. A woman's. "I'm looking for ... John Watson?"

Sherlock's heart stopped. _Why is a woman looking for John? Who is this woman?_ He might've stopped breathing too.

_No. He's not cheating. John wouldn't._

"Who's this?" Sherlock asked in a calm voice, when in all honesty, he just wanted to break down.

Had John got tired of him? Five years was a long while.

"Oh. _Oh._ Is this Mr Holmes? Uhm, I think I shouldn't have—Sorry—" Sherlock heard a muffled curse and the line went dead. _She_ shouldn't have what? _Called? Why? How long has this been going on?_

Just like that, the gnawing hole in Sherlock's chest ate his aching heart.

When John arrived later that evening, Sherlock could no longer _feel._ He's all numb over. He stared in the distance as John work around their dinner. If John noticed his unusual behaviour from the lack of 'Welcome home', and a kiss, he hadn't talked about it. But there was a tension in the air, one could wrap in a thick rope, if amenable.

His husband cleared his throat and spoke. "Kirsten called me earlier." John said in a careful voice. So, that's her name.

Sherlock shut his eyes tight, and took a deep breath. But before he could even speak, he felt John's warm palm caressing his cheek.

"Kirsten Dunlord is our contact ... for the child adoption services.

"She apologised for calling you. But I told her it's alright. Because I did not intent to keep the developments a secret from you. The adoption papers is a go. Rosie will become a big sister to a baby brother. They approved the application, Sherlock."

 _Wait, what?_ Oh. Oh.  
The pride and excitement in John's voice couldn't be more mistaken. But when he didn't replied, John's smile begun to fade.

It was only then that Sherlock seem to blink back to life as John's worried eyes bore unto him. "Sherlock, are you alright? I honestly didn't mean to just leave you out of the loop but I really wanted to surprise you. An anniversary gift surprise— Happy fifth anniversary love— Sherlock?"

Sherlock suddenly gasped. Oh, what a fool. Why does he always end up being like this. He's so tired of being like this. Of having these thoughts. It eats him inside. He had to contact their therapist. They'd come a long way and still he's letting his delusional self destroy what he and John had been building.

But he needed to tell John. He vowed never to keep anything from him. Licking his dry lips, he released a nervous breath. He had to try.

"John ... I ... My thoughts..." Sherlock started. But he felt scared, the words just won't come out. 

John's eyes became unfocused and it became glassy. Sherlock watched as John's throat moved in a difficult swallow. But if a long time ago, disappointment would be John's answer, not this time around. Understanding and love still shone in his husband's eyes despite the bit of sadness in them. And Sherlock just wanted to crawl under their bed and hide. He doesn't deserve John Watson. But somehow, John thinks, Sherlock was it for him.

A beautiful smile then lighten up John's face as he slowly wrapped his arms around Sherlock and gathered him in an embrace.

"I love you so much." John whispered. "One step at a time, Sherlock. And I vow to be with you, in each and every one of them." John murmured against his hair. The pain in Sherlock's heart dissipated as he melted in John's warmth. 

"I love you too." Sherlock replied quietly with all the strength left on him. He still felt raw and exhausted but he's in John's arms, he never complained.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock. We'll talk about this alright? But I want you to meet our new baby first." John then pulled a folder Sherlock hadn't noticed under the coffee table and opened it to the sight of a newborn baby. Sherlock's heart swelled upon seeing the photos.

He lost track of time as John told him about the new member of their little family while he listened eagerly. Laughters and a bit of tears and soft murmurs of apologies afterwards, they talked about what happened earlier, and what triggered Sherlock's delusions. Then in the comfort of their bed, they decided to go into therapy the next morning.

Sure, this wouldn't be the only time that Sherlock or John would experience a relapse. But as they promised in their wedding day. They'd face everything together like they did from the very start. 

And for Rosie, the baby and John, Sherlock would do anything to get better. Just as John had promised the same.

> THE END


	18. Day 18: 02/18: Prompt #18: Property — fervid as flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 18: Property**
> 
> Additional Tags: Johnlock Poetry, Making love, Soft Johnlock, John's verses

> Fervid As Flame
> 
> _Mine_  
>  I whisper against your closed eyelids  
>  as you part your lips  
>  A soft gasp escapes from them  
>  Heaven on Earth, a bliss every moment
> 
> _Mine_  
>  Against the crook of your neck my words falter  
>  Only your scent matters  
>  And the way your grip tightens at the back of my head 
> 
> _Mine_  
>  I trail the four letter word with my tongue  
>  Against your pale skin they are warm  
>  As you bloom in a shade of red
> 
> _Mine_  
>  Then you smooth your palms, caressing my back  
>  I bit every part of you I can claim  
>  The sounds that you make I am to blame
> 
> _Mine_  
>  As I become one with you  
>  As you take me on  
>  As you grip me tightly saying, 'Never let me go,'
> 
> _Mine_  
>  And in this room where darkness is without  
>  We burn like flames  
>  As we are moth all the same
> 
> Every whisper, every sound, every breath we take from each other's mouth  
>  "Yours," I finally said  
>  Then you replied, "Mine, until the very end."


	19. Day 19: 02/19: Prompt #19: Greece — celestial and blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #19: Greece**
> 
> Additional Tags: Established Relationships - Husbands, Honeymoon, Soft John and Sherlock
> 
> **Summary:**
> 
> On their way to Santorini. 💙

John released a yawn as he stretched his legs from his seat after sleeping almost the whole duration of the last connecting flight to reach their destination. Christ, he was so knackered. There was a phantom ache on his right shoulder, but one he consider a 'good ache' as his husband's head was leaning comfortably against it. Greg used to tease him before he and Sherlock got involved, that Sherlock always finds a way to sleep easily against his shoulder, despite their height difference when the exhaustion caught up to them. Whether it was from joint stakeouts or running around London chasing criminals. Back then, he used to think nothing about it. He was just glad that Sherlock was able to sleep. He was just glad nothing had changed between the two of them. Specially now, that they're newly married and on their way to their week-long honeymoon in Santorini, Greece. John vowed not to miss the little things they used to do before. It was among of his wedding vows he promised to Sherlock along with his forever love—nothing would change in between them except for the things they had to work out. The issues they need to talk about. And of course, there are those ... uhm .. sexy times. John coughed when he felt his cheeks warm where his thoughts went. 

'The stretch of Aegean sea mimics your eyes.' Sherlock's deep baritone voice suddenly pulls him out of his own memory lane. 'Just by looking at it, I remember the feeling of drowning from the very first time we met. As if my mind palace had floodgates, and yet there wasn't a flood. But there was only you, looking at me.'

John closed his eyes feeling his lips curve into a smile.   
'Going sappy at me already, Sherlock?'  
John playfully asked. There was a movement beside him, and then he felt a gentle kiss on his cheek.

'Maybe. I'm allowed to am I?' Sherlock quietly answered, followed by a haughty remark. 'I married a blogger.' 

John's eyebrows raised as he opened his eyes, turning to his side to look at Sherlock. His breath caught at the genuine and serene smile painted on his husband's face. John already knew then that Sherlock was just playing at him before. Again. It was also then that he realised, gone were the days when he usually would get annoyed at everything that comes out of Sherlock's mouth. He changed just as Sherlock too. Just like now, less annoyed. He chuckled, dropping a soft kiss on the tip of Sherlock's nose.

These were these moments of silence that followed after their bickering that had him emotional, sometimes.

'God, I love you so much.' He murmured as he buried his face against Sherlock's curls. He stayed like that for a while, breathing in Sherlock's scent. Feeling their hearts beat in sync. Sherlock nosed his jaw placing a ghost of a kiss here and there. 

'Thank you for loving me, John. I am honoured that you chose me to love. Thank you for waiting for me, despite the hurt I caused you.' Sherlock's whisper was so low, if John wasn't really listening. He wouldn't have been able to hear it. 

And as the captain's voice announced the arrival of their plane to Santorini, John once again looked out of the window to the vast expanse of blue sea below them. He twisted to his side to look at his husband, caught the gaze of those celestial like pair of eyes and said, 'You've been always worth the wait and the pain.'

When Sherlock kissed him, they never closed their eyes. And it was like the meeting of the heavens and the sea.

> THE END


	20. Day 20: 02/20: Prompt #20: Heels — chances are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #20: Heels**
> 
> Additional Tags: Different First Meeting, Established Mystrade (Greg Lestrade), Undercover, Age Gap, Sherlock wears heels, John saves Sherlock, Trigger Warning applies for graphic depiction of violence, POV John Watson, Italicised POV Sherlock (for the first part)
> 
>  **Summary:**  
>  An ordinary night at a bar, when John saves a stranger.

_The pungent smell of urine invaded his nose but Sherlock paid no attention to it. His eyes locked at the bar's back door willing it to open already. He's been scouting the place for over an hour, but so far all he had seen were men and women trying to rip each other's mouth before they even reached the cabbie waiting for them._

_But Sherlock was waiting for another man. The man who's a suspect for the murder of three women just a block passed the back alley. The victims were drugged, raped and then stabbed to death before they were strangled, even if they're already dead. Sherlock's stomach turned at the memories of seeing the murder victims. He will make that man pay. Even if he had to wait for D.I. Lestrade to call him if the plan was a go. He could stall the man from doing something worse that what he already did. That's why here he was, dressed in a long sleeve see-through mesh and black skinny jeans, with matching black high heels just waiting for the man to strike. And he was the bait._

_But why was the D.I. taking so long? Sherlock sighed. It's probably going to be a long night again. He was pulling his phone from his purse when a commotion behind him dragged his attention away from the back door. He turned and it was then that an excruciating pain exploded from his temple. He gasped for air as it was followed by something hard slamming against his chest. Tripping on his heels backwards, he hits the ground. Sherlock wheezed as air seem to be sucked out of his lungs. Then the most dreadful thing happened. The feeling of needle against his elbow's skin. He tried to stop the pair of hands from touching him. He tried to talk but his words slur. As the flush of the drug in his veins made him surrender and darkness began to take over his vision, Sherlock did something he hadn't done before—he prayed for his life._

**• JOHN •**

"Check please. Thank you." John said with a smile at the young male bartender in front of him. In return, he got his check and a piece of paper with a mobile number lazily scrawled. He looked up to see the boy biting his lower lip, aiming for a seductive look. It worked. John was seduced, but for some reason he felt uneasy as well. He gave the boy a farewell smile, and turned towards the door. In that exact moment, a man with a greying hair and an aura of authority entered and started looking around. John known him as the detective who always shows up on TV. Gut instinct, John felt the need to help the man. His instincts saved him countless times as a soldier in his army days before being shot twice. It was a miracle he got out alive with just a healing hole in his left shoulder and a graze in the side of his stomach. But the trauma the bullets left, became a phantom that chased John out the desert of Afghanistan to the streets of South London when he was honourably discharged.

Downing the rest of his shot, John got out of his seat and waved at the older man.

"Hey," John greeted, with equal authority as he reached the man. He was a captain for fucks sake.

"How may I help you?" The man asked in a firm voice, at the same time fishing out an ID from his coat pocket, then flashing it to him.

John nodded, understanding that he shouldn't make an unnecessary move or something or he'd be arrested.  
"I was hoping to help you. Looks like you're looking for something." He threaded carefully. The man eyed him silently. "I was a soldier. A former Captain of the Northumberland Fusiliers." John placated. 

The man then seem to sense that he's genuine, for the piercing dark brown eyes relaxed from weary and gratitude replaced them.  
"Yea? Thank you for your service, Sir ...?" 

"Oh. Just John now. John Watson."

"Alright, John." The man nodded. "Greg Lestrade, Chief Inspector from New Scotland Yard. And actually, you can help me with finding someone. Since you're technically both civilian now." Greg, once again looked around, as if whatever he's looking for might popped around. "I'm looking for uh a colleague? Err, part-time assistant." With air quotes on the term _assistant_."

John gave a terse nod. He listened carefully as the inspector relayed the information as far as he's allowed. So apparently, this part-time assistant was a 21 year old male and still in college. They were supposed to meet at the bar but the guy won't answer the text messages now. They were currently working at a multiple murder case, possible serial killing case. It must be inappropriate, but suddenly, John felt alive. 

"Let's look outside." He decided then turned towards the back door exit, the inspector following him behind. His senses sharpened when darkness welcomed them as he opened the back door. Greg held an arm and the detective pulled out his service gun, safety mechanism off, walking outside first. 

"Weren't you supposed to have ... uh ... backups?" John asked quietly.

"Yep. It's currently missing." Greg answered without looking at him. When he didn't answered, Greg added. "Look. This is an unsanctioned stakeout. I might get in trouble with this. But Sherlock, that's my uh assistant's name told me that he had solved the case."

"And you believed him?"

"Boy, I'd lay my life on the line for him. But ... my husband wouldn't like it. And we'd already face the wrath of the Titan if Mycroft learns what I made him do."

"Your husband?" Interesting. 

"Sherlock's brother." _Ah._

"What?" 

Greg nodded grimly.

A scuffle followed by a grunt made them turn to the darker part of the alley. Two shadows by the wall faintly illuminated by the sliver of moonlight barely passing through the cloudy sky made John's heartbeat grow erratic. 

Something about that wasn't right.

When all of a sudden, the figure pinning the other to the wall raised a hand at the exact moment the moonlight illuminated the dark alley. John felt his feet move before he could even hear Greg calling him. The perp heard Greg's voice and looked up from strangling the figure by the wall to him. 

_Fuck!_

John swore over and over again inside his head as the perp gestured his hand to a stabbing motion. John grabbed the nearing thing his hand can hold as he passed a trash bin on his way. Luckily, it was the lid. John thrown the lid with all the strength that he has hitting the perp bullseye on the head.

The man swore like a sailor before staggering backwards holding his head. It easily recovered and ran ahead.

"Greg!" John shouted over his shoulder as he kneeled down to take a look at the injured man before him. Broken high heels, ripped skinny jeans, and torn mesh see-through barely covering the pale skin that are bruised with a bleeding torso to add. There was a torn long wig lying on the ground next to the man's body. Training kicking in, John assessed the man. Gently he held the man's jaw turning it to him. Bruised cheekbones, bleeding nose and teeth, made John winced. He then took the man's pulse. _Erratic._ John then examined the other bruises and found a needle wound still bleeding. _Fuck. The man was drugged._ He took off his jacket pressing it to the man's wound. And then He lifted the man's head and laid it carefully into his lap.

"Sherlock!" Greg shouted dropping on his knees near him. 

Sherlock? This was Sherlock? Greg's assistant? 

The man looked young and ... if John would be honest, beautiful. Hell, even with the bruises, the man still looked beautiful. John knew he should use the adjective _handsome_ and yet, beautiful was the first word that came into his mind. Quickly he felt bad for thinking of those things other than this man's well-being, Sherlock's a patient at the moment.

"999?" He asked in a calm voice.

"Five minutes—" Greg replied. "They're just around the corner. I had them wait just in case somebody gets injured but—" Greg's voice filled with anguish. "Oh god, Sherlock! What did I tell you? I told you to wait for me! Your brother will kill me! Why can't you just—"

"Hey. Hey! Greg!" He interrupted. "Not now, alright?" He added with a firm voice.

Greg nodded weakly running a hand over his face. 

"Where's your criminal?" He asked.  
Greg's features changed from worried to stern immediately. "Cuffed inside my car. I had the backup looking after him." The man gritted his teeth. "He's not going anywhere."

Siren sounded from the distance as he patched the young man under his care as gently as he can.

"You said you were a soldier." Greg murmured.

"I was."

"But not just a soldier?"

John glanced at Greg. "I was an army doctor. A surgeon." A damn good one. But he doesn't really want to talk about it. And the older man might've known that.

"Well, John. Thank you for everything."

He nodded. The still unconscious Sherlock turned to his stomach but John had done everything he can. 

When the paramedics arrived, Greg told them about Sherlock's information while he filled in the details of the bruises and lacerations. 

The men worked on Sherlock's body securing him to a stretcher and looking after him. Not much has been said between him and his new friend. Greg nodded a thanks to him and offered a ride home in the police car, but he declined. Greg took his number and promised to tell him about Sherlock's recovery. Why? John doesn't know. But all of that feeling of uneasiness was now gone. When he went to sleep that night, the nightmares didn't come. But his mind were occupied by the young man he just saved that night.

Two months after the incident, John had started to receive weird messages on his phone from an unknown number. It was just a simple 'Hello. Is this Doctor Watson?' at first, and John replied politely to that. No one texted back though. Thinking it was a referred patient asking about him, he saved the number. Then he went on to live his monotonous life of wake up, shower, eat, work, sleep repeat. He had forgotten of the unknown number until one day when he hasn't gone to work, he received a message again.

_Doctor Watson, can we meet?_

John frowned at the message so he replied.

_Excuse me, but who's this?_

_Must you be so difficult?_

He laughed. Because for some reason, he could see the stranger's frustrated childlike face and it made him ridiculously happy.

_How will I know you're not a serial killer?_

When no one reply came immediately, John was already convinced it was a fake, until suddenly a call lights up his screen.

"Hello?" John answered.

Someone cleared a throat followed by a voice sounded so deep. 

"My name is Sherlock and the place is 221b Baker Street. I'll wait for you. But you better not make me, Dr Watson. For I am an impatient man."

Wow. Arrogant little shit—

"Well?" Sherlock drawled from the other line.

"Why?" John asked curiously.

A few minutes passed before John heard the man reply.

"Tea? Over ... ridiculous afternoon conversations?" 

John laughed out loud. "You should work on your dating skills Sherlock.

The man gasped from the other line.  
"I ... I did not said something about a—"

"You should learn to ask if they're okay with it."

"Oh. Alright..." Sherlock replied quietly.

"Luckily for you, I don't mind a handsome company." John smirked when a clatter of china in between coughs sounded from the other line.  
"Tea is yours, mine will be the conversations." He added.

"Acceptable." Sherlock replied.

John smiled to the little droplets of rain starting to pour. Chances of it going strong works in his favor.

"Can I stay the night?" John asked boldly.

"I have a spare bedroom... or we could..." Sherlock quietly replied.

John thought for a moment, before replying. "We could." He said with a final tone. He ended the call with a smile on his face and went on to prepare for his _date._

> THE END


	21. Day 21: 02/21: Prompt #21: Sigh — a myriad of expressions (poetry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #21: Sigh**
> 
> Additional Tags: Johnlock Poetry, POV John Watson, Domestic life, Soft Johnlock, First times
> 
> **Summary:**
> 
> Since it's February 21st today, I wrote a 221 word-poetry for the prompt of the day! Happy 221b Day!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the work on the box to remain 221 words, I won't include the title. :)

> A sigh of frustration escapes your lips  
>  When a case meets a dead end  
>  Having you out of your wits
> 
> I watched from afar as you decipher a code  
>  Running around London not minding the busy road
> 
> The half-eaten food  
>  The half cup of tea  
>  "What else did I miss?"  
>  _Have you thought about me?_
> 
> A sigh of resignation  
>  That's all I heard from you  
>  When you finally gave up  
>  Fighting me over about you taking a nap
> 
> In the silence of the evening  
>  You cuddle with me in the couch  
>  It was these moments  
>  I've fallen in love with you even more  
>  Without a doubt
> 
> Should we blame the adrenalin?  
>  Or the drunken decision of snuggling?  
>  When the sigh of our pleasure had you trembling and writhing?
> 
> I held unto your wrists  
>  As you take what you need
> 
> 'I think I'm in love with you, John'  
>  You murmured suddenly in my lips
> 
> When you looked into my eyes  
>  I knew then you were telling the truth  
>  And so I chanced myself and told you my secret  
>  'I think I've been in love with you the day we've met'
> 
> And in the end a sigh of content  
>  Between the two of us  
>  Made way to a realisation
> 
> 'Let's get married,' you quietly said  
>  Without hesitation, I said, 'Yes' 


	22. Day 22: 02/22: Prompt 22: Texture — these are the moments (poetry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #22: Texture**
> 
> Additional Tags: Johnlock Poetry, Making love, Abuse of metaphors, OOC, This John Watson is always out of character, But fuck it, Sooooooft, Fluuuuuuf

> **_these are the moments_ ** __
> 
> _Pale as the moonlight seeping through the curtains  
>  Smooth against the Egyptian silky sheets   
> Crumpling as our bodies moved in sync  
> I worship your skin like a captain to his ship_
> 
> _Dipping my lips and mapping every part of you  
>  As needs and wants burned between the two of us  
> Like soft ashes turning into dust_
> 
> _Gripping your curls in the heat of the moment  
>  While you left your mark behind my back  
> Like remnants of won war  
> Red in a minute_
> 
> _Rough and fast  
>  We took our flight  
> As love in our eyes shimmers in the dark_
> 
> _And as you fell apart  
>  Breathing out my name  
> As I make you whole again   
> While to me you do the very same _
> 
> _I wouldn't trade these moments for anything  
>  Now that it's just you and me  
> There's nowhere else I'd rather be_


	23. Day 23: 02/23: Prompt #23: Verbal — speak to me (poetry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 23: Verbal**
> 
> Additional Tags: Poetry, AU and all that

> **_Speak to Me_ ** __
> 
> _Tell me your worries  
>  Your secret desires  
>  Tell me the things you hide behind your Cheshire smile_
> 
> _Tell me the words you've longed to hear  
>  And I'll say it to you everyday  
>  Every minute you'll hear_
> 
> _Believe me when I say  
>  I owe you this much  
>  Ever since you've asked  
>  'Afghanistan or Iraq?'_
> 
> _Telling me my whole life  
>  With just a curious glance  
>  Enough for me to be in awe of your undeniable brilliance_
> 
> _So let me do the same for you  
>  Talk — I'll listen  
>  Speak, my darling_
> 
> _Let me lend you my ears  
>  As you rely your fears  
>  Wrap me with your words no one has ever heard_
> 
> _Be that as it may  
>  Fate brought us together  
>  But love made me stay_


	24. Day 24: 02/24: Prompt #24: Forget — forget you not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #24: Forget**
> 
> Additional tags: AU, Johnlock in Paris, John is a forgiving person, John faints - A nod on ACD's The Empty House, Five years after the Fall, Mycroft (cameo), Sherlock lives, Hopeful Ending
> 
>  **Summary:**  
>  Five years ago, his best friend jumped from a rooftop in front of him. For him. As Mycroft so casually relayed. That Sherlock had to jump—to save him, Mrs Hudson's and Greg's life from hidden enemies. There's nothing painful than that that has happened to him, so far. But if John would be given a chance, he vowed to make things right.

John eyed the towering Eiffel Tower just across from him. Around him, tourists chatter here and there in different languages, carrying maps of Paris and souvenirs. Most of them sitting under huge colourful umbrellas hiding from the sun. The sun that is scorching hot against his skin, but John didn't mind. He observed, rain would come later.

Five years ago, his best friend jumped from a rooftop in front of him. For him. As Mycroft so casually relayed. That Sherlock had to jump—to save him, Mrs Hudson's and Greg's life from hidden enemies. There's nothing painful than that that has happened to him, so far. But if John would be given a chance, he vowed to make things right. 

People assumed he liked Sherlock, more than a friend, or he and Sherlock were together. He scoffed over and over and over again, whenever people made that assumption. But in the back of his mind, maybe, they were together. It might not be romantically, but they had a partnership. He's not just a best friend, a colleague, a flat mate, a blogger, a doctor—he's just Sherlock's. No matter how many dates he'd gone through before, he always came home to Sherlock. And despite everything, Sherlock welcomed him. 

And that's the root of his pain. He missed the madman. So much. That he couldn't even date. His system refused to find someone to chat with, spend sometime with. Even Greg gave up their Friday night visits on a pub. Ella said, he's still grieving. He hasn't gone passed it. She also said that the partnership that he and Sherlock had was unforgettable. 

Oh, he couldn't forget, Sherlock, alright. Despite Sherlock's eccentricity, John had learned to love him. He learned to be patient with the man. He learned what Sherlock likes and dislikes, in order for them to live together in harmony. That's how much he... loved, Sherlock. 

Okay. Deep breath. Sherlock was attractive. The way his mind works. The way his mind lights up when there's a case of 9 in his scale. He's practically buzzing like a bee. And John got sucked into the zone that was Sherlock Holmes. But Sherlock was more than his mind and his looks. He personally prefer Sherlock with his violin. The instrument is like an extension of his complicated yet intricate soul. John closed his eyes and imagined Sherlock with him, in their safe space, in the living room of 221b playing his favourite Bach — _That is his favourite Bach_. He thought, as the familiar notes of Air he used to bugger Sherlock off to play began. 

It was only then that he moved from his spot and turned around. To his right, a circle of crowd surrounding the performer gather around. 

For some reason, John's feet gravitated to the crowd. Slowly, his steps took him in one of the empty spaces where everyone was silently watching the violinist.

A tall figure with raven curls streaked with greying hair, almost looking like dancing and gliding with his violin, tucked in the crook of his pale neck. John would know that neck _anywhere_. If his heart isn't beating twice the speed now, he'd dismiss the idea what were the odds that it's Sherlock who's playing in front of him. Sherlock who's bowing in a smooth grace in front of his audience. Sherlock who has learned to express gratitude and speaking in perfect French.

John should forget. This pain should've gone on. He took a deep breath and released it. 

Yes. That's right. Move on, Watson. He's not coming back. He's no longer with you. 

A quiet sob escape his lips and he tried to cover it with his mouth. With a grieving heart, John closed his eyes. Some passersby touched him, asking him if he's alright in their language. But John couldn't care to listen. The music was the last straw. 

Sherlock used to play Air to him. For the both of them. Whether the man knew it relaxes him in a way that touches his soul. Whenever there's frustration over unsolved cases. Locked investigations. Death of the victim before they got there to save them. Sherlock would know what to do. Just like how he got in tune with his best friend. It was those quiet moments that he missed.

One by one he felt the people around him vanish as he continued to stand there. A thunder echoed in the distance, as the sky cried with him. 

"I miss you. I miss you so much." He whispered. "Why should it hurt like this so much? It's been so long. Why can't I just forget you and be able to move on?"  
He gripped a hand over chest tightly as he blinked his tears away with the onslaught of raindrops against him. When suddenly the rain was gone. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Still blurry and hazy. He saw a pair of dark leather shoes in front of him. The part of black slacks that his eyes could reach was wet as well. Then he looked above him, and there it was. A dark umbrella was now protecting him from the rain. 

"John..." 

He froze. He felt numb all over. There was no way that voice could be ...

"Sher ..." It was all he could say before he felt the Eiffel Tower flipped in front of him. Strong arms grabbed him before he could fall into the ground. But he couldn't escape the darkness that soon enveloped him.

He could never forget Sherlock Holmes, even if he wanted to. His mind could, maybe, in time, be able to lock that memory out. But his heart, his heart could never. For a heart who _loves_ someone that much could never forget.

When John woke up, he was in his hotel room. He felt warmer with his jumper and track pants that he couldn't remember owning. But he wouldn't complain, he felt comfortable. This long-week vacation could've gone okay without him passing out on someone though. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Emotionally, mentally and physically. He went to kill the lamp when he suddenly noticed a paper tucked under his phone. There, scrawled in its usual penmanship, is Sherlock's note.

_221b, Baker Street, London.  
I'll explain everything to you, when you're ready. Come home to me, John. _

_— Sherlock_

John waited for the crash of anger and disappointment envelope him. But instead, he felt at peace. Oh, he was angry, alright. But that anger was more to himself. 

Was he ready? Five years ago-John Watson would still be drowning his arse in alcohol. But now, five years later-John Watson just wanted to hug Sherlock and make things right. That's exactly what he would do. 

Changing into his traveling clothes, John packed up with his small duffel bag behind him. When he's outside the hotel, a black car stops in front of him, as the window rolls down.

"Need a lift, Dr Watson?" Mycroft in his pristine all-black suit and tie casually drawled. He should feel mad towards this man too, he did at one point and would be sometime later, but there's somewhere he needed to be.

"Home?" He hesitantly asked.

"Baker street then." Mycroft stated cheerfully.

John got inside and looked out of the window. He now have a chance, and he'd never let go of it no matter what.


	25. Day 25: 02/25: Prompt 25: Mystic — you put a spell on me —

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #25: Mystic**
> 
> Additional Tags: AU, OOC, Sherlock is a Gypsy and a lot more, Djinn, Paranormal, Fantasy, Mystic, First Kiss, Mike Stamford cameo, Alternate Universe
> 
>  **Summary:**  
>  _Focus on me._ A voice inside his head said, causing him to stay alert.
> 
> _Very good. Now keep that connection. Focus on my lips. Focus on how I make you feel. Focus and feel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU, AU, AU. Mistakes are all mine. I did an extensive research about this that only finished about five minutes ago. But still, fictionnnn. So, rein yer ponies mate! Thanks for reading!

_“Remember Johnny, do not fall in love with a gypsy woman. She’ll steal all of your money and turn you into a human dog. Following her wherever she goes. Whatever she says. She’ll strip you off of your own decisions. One look from them, and you’ll never be the same again. Promise me, young man.”_

__

__

John blinked at his aunt, not really understanding what she had said. But he nodded. “Yes, auntie.” 

_He was five years old, but he already knew was that what his aunt had said, they were rules and should be followed. Whatever it takes._

Present Day ...

John yawned, blinking away the haze of sleep still lingering in his eyes. It’s that dream again. Damn it. Ever since he’d been stripped of innocence in his teenage years, he already understood that his Aunt was just being skeptical. It made him hesitate to come out to her as bisexual. He had known that ever since his eyes lingered too much on Ezra’s chest in the school’s shower room after the rugby practice, and no longer on his then girlfriend’s curvaceous hips waiting by the cheerleaders’ bench. He literally into both teams. Out and proud Ezra was their star player. He stomped down his desire to lick those abs for a first time experience. 

Being raised by an Aunt who has strong views about the LGBTQ+ community would do that to anyone. Little did John know, the root of Aunt Marley’s hatred originally came from his ex-husband. His Uncle Stefan. Uncle Stef was a gypsy of Irish descent and turned out to be gay. Hence the separation that broke their family. That broke his Aunt’s sanity. To make matters worse, Uncle Stef went to marry his distant cousin, Uncle Llewellyn. Uncle Llew was a gay gypsy as well. 

For Aunt Marley, it was the most shameful situation in her life. The couple moved out after he celebrated his fourth birthday. According to his Aunt, they were best not around. Like his gypsy parents that abandoned him to pursue on travelling the world. Until a rock slide killed them while passing a remote road somewhere in Nepal. Their bodies were never recovered. But the Nepali police reported their deaths to his aunt as the Sherpas from a nearby mountain had seen them cross the road and be claimed by the cliff below.

Aunt Marley passed while John was still on the second mission deployment in the army. She left the RV where she spent her last days in a will for him, along with a bunch of cash and a bank account that would soon see the last light of day. God knows why she didn’t sell the RV. It belonged to his Uncle Stef. She was eighty-six years old when she closed her eyes for the last time, as what the attending paramedic had relayed to him. Aunt Marley’s words lived in John for years. But now pushing forty, John couldn’t care less if the next human he’d pop the question about marriage would be a gypsy. Hell, it’s in his blood. He just hadn’t got the time to live it.

A knock on the door sounded and John peaked through the blinds decorating the windows. The familiar face of Mike Stamford, his former best friend, and colleague stood near the oak tree outside where his RV was parked. John glanced at the clock by his coffee table that says twelve midnight. What could be the possible reason Mike paid him a visit? He hasn’t seen him in years. They used to study and work at St. Bart’s before he joined the army. Mike pursued teaching after they graduated though. While he vowed to serve the crown.

Unlocking the door’s latch, John was surprised by Mike immediately bursting inside, gripping his arms in a tight hold.

“John! John! Have you heard what happened?! The Lawsons! Their family of four! Last night! No one even saw—,” John clamped a hand over Mike’s mouth, willing his friend to breathe.  
“Alright, Mike. Calm the fuck down. What’s going on? Slowly, please.” He gave his friend a terse nod, when Mike took a deep breath. He waited for a few minutes, letting Mike calm down, before asking again.

“Alright, mate?” When Mike nodded, he stood up, and pulled the blinds once again. The sun was just setting, and John watched it for a minute. Somehow it felt as if everything was about to change, after Mike’s done in telling his story.

“So. The Lawsons—,” John began, but Mike held a hand in front of him before he could even continue.

“Someone’s outside standing in front of your door.” Mike spoke in a grim voice.

“Wait. What?” Dumbfounded, John stood up and slowly walked towards the door. He paused, went back to the other corner, kneeled and pressed himself on the floor to reach for the black secured box where his service firearm lay nestled wrapped in fabric. He pushed the box under again then stood up to walk towards the door. 

With the gun’s safety off, John held the door’s latch, glanced at Mike, and pulled the door open. John trained his gun a mere distance away from the forehead of their visitor. A six ft. tall of a man dressed in muted colours of gypsy clothes. The last time John saw a gypsy was the back of his uncle leaving their house. After that, his aunt all but avoided running into one of them. The man’s forehead was wrapped in a red flowing silk bandana. Though John noticed a few raven curls not wanting to be restrained by the fabric. 

His eyes then followed the bare shoulder and arms absent of long sleeves. An intricate design of a crescent moon inside the sun surrounded with sparkling stars boldly tattooed in black those arms. Rings of bohemian bracelets and necklaces adorned the pale skin of the man’s chest visible from the V of his light caramel baggy shirt. John should stay alert, but something about the man doesn’t alarm him. Instead, he wanted to drop down on his knees and worship him. Just because the man was utterly beautiful. Unconsciously, John’s gaze continued to travel way down below those emerald green belts wrapped around sinful sinewy hips. A pierced belly button peaks just above the waistline, where a sliver of creamy skin begged to be touched. His brown boots made him even taller. 

John licked his dry lips as he looked up to meet the ice cold gaze of the Traveller. Those pair of unusually coloured eyes accentuated by black eyeliners. The man was a sight to behold. But it's fierceness seem to cut through him.

That seem to snap him from a trance. He felt his face warmed. 

_Gypsys. Maybe Aunt Marley was right._

John was about to snap at the man when all of a sudden, a blue smoke surround them. The man in front of him moved forward, and grabbed him by the neck. His gun clattered to the ground, and the next thing John knew, the Traveller was kissing him.

John expected the worst since he opened the door to his old friend’s unusual time of visit. But what he didn’t expect was the gorgeous man kissing him with abandon. Teeth and tongue clashed. John closed his eyes as their lips sought each other. He couldn’t help the moan of pleasure that escaped him. That same pleasure now pooling to that part of him that has been neglected for so long after moving back to his childhood roots. Christ what was he doing? He should stop—

 _Focus on me._ A voice inside his head said, causing him to stay alert.

_Very good. Now keep that connection. Focus on my lips. Focus on how I make you feel. Focus and feel._

John did. He focused to the overwhelming pleasure now coursing through him. Eventually, his hands wandered. Caressing the soft fabric his fingers had gotten a hold of. Momentarily, the man froze as if distracted when John’s fingers touched the soft skin of his waist. But then he moved again, urgent this time. 

_Not a little too long, now._  
The voice said. 

_Yeah? Not a little too long and I’d come untouched._ He replied. He couldn’t help it. He just got 98% horny when the man kissed him. 

Now, John’s nearly there. Just a little push of his pelvis against the man’s legs and he’d be done. 

But before he could even reach that peak, a loud thud from behind him followed by an inhuman howl distracted him enough to get a grip of reality.

John disentangled himself from the man and turned. Whatever he saw would hunt his waking hours. Mike lay crumpled and pale on the floor unmoving.

“Mike!” John exclaimed in panic.  
He went to run towards his friend but the reaching Traveller stopped him .

“Don’t touch him!” The man shouted.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?! He’s my friend!” He screamed.

Something passed in the man’s face, but it was gone when John blinked. 

“He’s not the friend you know. That is a demon that copied your friend. A Djinn.” The man calmly explained although he started to look around them and in the shadowy trees outside.

“What?” John breathed. 

“Look again.” The man nodded towards the spot where Mike should’ve been but now, it was just what looked like a bluish chalk on the floor. 

“I’ll send someone to cleanse your space. You wouldn’t want its aura lingering here. Also, names have powers. Do not throw its name in a casual conversation. You’ll attract them. Understood?” 

John had to refrain himself from leaving a sarcastic remark and then calling this … this … insufferable man in his head with a Giant Dick nickname but yeah he thought otherwise.

“Wouldn’t you want to know?”  
The man said with a smirk. _Wait. Did he just hear what I said in my head?_

“Pay attention, soldier.” The man suddenly snapped at him. “If you really want to save your friend, we have to find him. Before another demon smells his body and makes it their vessel. He must be weak if he’s awake now.” The man said before he turned. John immediately grabbed his wrist.

The man looked at his wrist, then to John with eyebrows raised. 

“Why did you kiss me?” John demanded.

The man stared at him before letting out a long-suffering sigh.  
“I saved you. Obviously. Simple as that. If that thing continued to talk to you, it’ll feed off your fears as well. Like what it did to your friend, Mike.”

“But why? I wasn’t scared.”

“He was starting to make you."

“How?”

“He touched you.” The man answered. “That type of demon spreads their poison by touching you. Then they’ll pretend to grant you three wishes like a little fairy. Instead, they will conjure an illusion where they are there with you and they fulfilled your wish. When the truth is, they never did. They’ll continue to feed on your soul’s energy until you die.”

John contemplated then remembered something the Traveller said earlier. “You mentioned Mike was scared? Why?”

The man folded his arms over his chest and began a tapping reading in one of his arms.  
“He saw the death of the Lawsons. It's possible that this same demon killed them and your friend happened to witness it. Now if you don’t have any questions—”

A phone rang and the Traveller pulled a small one from his belt bag. John missed seeing that one earlier. The man turned to face the moonlit road and took the call. John once again had a glimpse of those hips.

Discreetly, John adjusted himself. Fuck. He hissed. He still felt sensitive and he hasn’t come. Fuck his life. 

When the call ended the man waved his hands in the air followed by unusual gestures while murmuring incantations. Then he pulled what looked like wooden sticks from said belt bag, wordlessly passing some to John. John was then gestured to follow, and the two of them circled the RV, stabbing the ground with the sticks to make a makeshift barrier according to the man. The sticks turned out to be made of iron and could help ward off oncoming attacks.

When the man relayed that the _real Mike_ had been found and saved by some of his colleagues, John had to admit to himself he got jealous that there were people who knew the man longer before him. Christ, he’s not even that possessive to his previous someone like this. They’re not even dating! They’d just met for fucks sake!

When they reached the front yard again, John stood and waited until the man finished his own set of sticks. Then he cleared his throat. Because he knew the man would leave after it. Now, all he really wanted to know was who his man was and his name.

“Sherlock Holmes. Traveller. Gypsy. Psychic. Medium. Dreamcatcher. Mind reader ... and a whole lot more." The man said with amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“I bet you are.” John murmured in reply. His eyes locked with the man. “I’m John Watson by the way. And uhm … Thank you for … saving my friend.” Then he added softly. “And saving my life." He hesitated. "Will I … ever see you again someday?”

Sherlock slowly walked towards him, stopping just inches away. John’s heart rate beat wildly against his chest as Sherlock leaned down making their breaths mingle.

“I don’t kiss a man twice, John Watson. I consider it bad luck. But you’re making it hard to resist.” Sherlock whispered, and without further ado, he claimed John’s mouth again. For how long, John lost track of time. He hadn’t even realised he closed his eyes. When he opened them, it was to see Sherlock’s genuine smile.

“Consider _yourself_ lucky.” The man said. John grinned. “I’m hoping that luck won’t ran out yet."

> THE END


	26. Day 26: 02/26: Prompt #26: Ears — the cutest thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #26: Ears**
> 
> Additional Tags: Established Relationship - Husbands

It was _one_ of those days, when John just wanted to lie down in the sleeping bay immediately after a day’s work. He sighed and checked on the time on his watch. 

Two more hours.

Pulling out his phone, John scrolled to Sherlock's number and hit the call button.

Two rings later, the call was answered. "Hello, handsome. Is something the matter?"

John sighed, smiling stupidly just hearing his husband's voice. "Nothing, I can't handle. I just miss you and Rosie."

An affectionate chuckle was Sherlock's reply. "We miss you too. But my behind still protests, Sir."

John laughed. The memory of Sherlock's perky arse all for him to worship as they made love earlier that morning made him warm inside. 

"Anyway, how's the little princess?" 

Before his husband could answer though, a little roar came on the background followed by Sherlock's pretend squeak. "Such huge ears you have dear Grandmum!" John chuckled as he listened intently while Sherlock and Rosie reenacted their daughter's favourite bedtime story, The Little Red Riding Hood.

A few more minutes passed on the call before John said a quick goodbye to Sherlock and a promise of donuts for Rosie. Back to work, the remaining hours flew by without other issues.

Later that evening as John inserted the key to the knob, and turned it open, he expected toys scattered everywhere. But what he saw instead melted his heart.

Sherlock was asleep on the couch, wearing the Wolf's ears over his head, while Rosie slept soundly cuddled on his chest. Both of them snoring softly. Once again, a surge of love flowed inside of him for two of the most important person in his life. He then thought if he'd be able to come home to this, no matter how tired was, he would.

> THE END


	27. Day 27: 02/27: Prompt #27: Fashion — of silk robes and heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #27: Fashion**
> 
> Additional tags: Parent!lock, Rooosie <3, Established Relationship - Husbands, Domestic life at 221b

The next morning, John woke up bright and early with a smile on his face. It’s Sunday, which meant, family day. And he doesn’t have to go to work.

He softly kissed Sherlock’s forehead before carefully disentangling himself. He walked towards Rosie’s mini bed located in the corner of their room checking on their daughter’s nappies. He fixed her blanket, smiling when she grabbed his fingers clutching the blanket with her eyes still closed. 

“John?” John looked over his shoulder to see Sherlock reaching out a hand on his side of the bed, with eyes still closed. Sherlock’s lips pouted after finding out that John wasn’t there. John had to stiffle a laugh. There were times that Sherlock was so possessive of him.

He walked back to their bed and held Sherlock’s hand.

“Hey, love. Just checking on Rosie.” He whispered. Sherlock hummed in reply. “Let’s make breakfast?”

John smiled meeting his husband’s sleepy gaze. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The two of them worked in comfortable silence with an occasional banter here and there.

Half an hour later, a tapping sound caught their attention. When they both looked for it, it brought them to the bedroom where they found Rosie wearing garments larger than her. Their daughter walked head held up high with her little hands propped in both side of her hips. Rosie also wore Sherlock’s heels too large for her. John squinted at the sight while Sherlock laughed softly beside him. 

“John, don’t you remember that case we solved years ago? I wore that treasure Rosie found,” Sherlock asked, nodding at the silk robe Rosie was wearing. “You particularly loved it when I modeled in front of you.” 

Oh, John remembered alright. How could he forget? Whenever his eyes met Sherlock’s, the man seductively smiles at him. Luckily, their bait worked. Sherlock pretended to be a model seeking for a part-time job. That was also the first time that John strangled the man with his bare hands before Sherlock even proved that the maniac was their killer. 

Tons of paperworks, countless eyesex and a dozen coffee cups later, John was vibrating with need. When he cornered Sherlock in the shower later, the man all but begged for John to be inside him. And that went vice versa. 

John leaned on Sherlock’s shoulder with a content smile on his lips. “Would you like to apply for some part-time modeling, Mister?” He asked in an innocent voice. Looking up, he met Sherlock’s hooded gaze.

“I might be bad at it. I’m not gonna wear that blasted heels though.” Sherlock murmured.

John chuckled, tiptoed and kissed Sherlock’s lips. “Yes, you will. It completes your fashion model look."

Sherlock eyed him before smiling affectionately. "Alright, Sir. Laters then." Sherlock then crouched down to fix Rosie’s robe and secure the heels. "No to heels, still." Sherlock murmured, which had laughing.

John watched for a bit as the two played, occasionally chuckling at Sherlock’s antics on teaching their daughter how to be a model. Afterwards, he went back to the kitchen to finish making their breakfast, silently planning how to make Sherlock wear those heels again.

> THE END


	28. Day 28: 02/28: Prompt #28: List — poetry + vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #28: List**
> 
> Additional Tags: Established Relationship, AU, Soft Johnlock

> _**How do I love Sherlock? Let me list the ways** _
> 
> _— I love him by letting him sulk in the corner, whenever a case goes unsolved  
>  I let him think of how he did his best and then make him tea when he figure out the rest_
> 
> _— I let him berate others, afterwards give him _that_ look  
>  To know that he'd apologised makes me proud of him the most_
> 
> _— I let him bask in praises and smile when he had expressed his gratitude  
>  But what makes me love him most, is the way he became more humble_
> 
> _— I love him when a case goes wrong  
>  I never leave his side  
>  Through night and day  
>  Every hour and every minute  
>  I'm with him as long as I'm able_
> 
> _— I let him know he's loved in every single way  
>  A hug from behind, a kiss on the cheek, a peck on the lips  
>  That last one I cannot resist,_
> 
> _I could list a million things of how I love Sherlock,  
>  But it all comes down to one  
>  I simply love him for being him  
>  And that would never change until I breathe my last _

> **_The Johnlock Vow_ ** __
> 
> _I vow to always be with you  
>  In every step of the way  
>  I vow to be the calm in your storm  
>  The light at the end of your tunnel_
> 
> _I vow to be your voice  
>  When you could no longer speak  
>  I vow to listen to every whisper  
>  That you thought no one could hear_
> 
> _To be your eyes when you could no longer see  
>  To carry your pain  
>  Even if you wouldn't let me_
> 
> _To be your feet when you couldn't walk  
>  Your strength when your body has given up_
> 
> _My love, I vow, to hold your hand_  
>  Until our warmth has gone  
>  I will never ever let you go  
>  Together here we'll stand 

> FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to ohlooktheresabee for letting me borrow her prompt. A very kind person. And thank you guys for reading! Keep safe always


End file.
